


Once upon a Dream

by Janina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Drabbles, F/M, One-Shots, Prompt fills from tumblr, Romance, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 36,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fills, random bits of inspiration, and drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Picture from jonsnowchronicles on Tumblr. This drabble was inspired by it.

[](http://s1132.photobucket.com/user/Janina44/media/jonsnow10_zpsqevji0yl.jpg.html)

Jon had heard the stories when he returned to Winterfell about the wolf that stalked the grounds on full moons, howling at it and hunting in the woods. They said it left trails of blood in the white snow from its kills, and that sometimes, the entrails it left behind looked human.

And, on the night of first full moon since he’d returned to Winterfell, he watched from a turret to see if he could catch a glimpse of this wolf. 

He had. It loped around and around the grounds and when the light of the moon caught on its fur, Jon saw that the fur was red. It was beautiful and reminded him so much of that long ago pack of baby direwolves.

It looked up at him as he stood there watching it, and sat in the snow and just stared at him. He thought he heard it whimper. And then it tore off into the woods and Jon didn’t see it again. 

The next morning when he looked out to where the wolf had been, he saw a trail of red in the snow. Curious, he followed the trail out, sword by his side just in case. 

He followed the trail of blood and was able to locate another trail of blood that led him further into the forest. When he came upon a cave, he heard rustling form inside and a wail and came to the mouth of the cave. He peered inside and saw her. 

Sansa. 

She was dirty and naked, dried blood on her chin and breasts and down the entire front of her. She stared at him, shivering, wide-eyed, her hair a tangle. She growled softly. 

“Sansa,” he breathed. 

She inhaled sharply and sniffed the air. She got down on all fours and moved closer to the mouth of the cave. She whimpered. Jon held out a hand in her direction, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing. She came closer and sniffed at his hand and then pushed the top of her head into it as if seeking for him to pet her. 

“Oh, Sansa, what has happened to you?” he murmured. 

He rose to his feet and his sudden movement startled her. She growled and scampered back in the cave. He took off his cloak and draped it over his arm. He knelt again and held out his hand. “Sansa, come back. Come back to me…”

Slowly she made her way back out, sniffing the air and watching him warily. When she was before him he pointed to the cloak. “I’m going to put this on you.”

She made some kind of sound in the back of her throat that Jon took for approval, and slowly draped his cloak about her shoulders. He took her hand, it was cold and dirty. “Can you stand, Sansa?” He ever so slowly rose to his feet. “Like this.”

She grunted and slowly began to rise. 

Jon wanted to weep. He held out his hand to her. “Will you come with me? Into Winterfell?”

She grunted and nodded and Jon led them slowly through the forest and back to their home. This, he had not expected.


	2. Kind of, Like, Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been sleeping at my house because yours is being renovated and we aren’t even dating, yet every time you wake up to the baby crying and sigh, “I’ll go” I feel like we might as well be married.

Sansa lay there after Jon got up to see what Lyanna needed and became aware of two things: 1. Every single time Lyanna cried at night this past week while Jon had been staying with her, Jon was the one that went to see her daughter and 2. Had she and Jon really fallen asleep in her bed?

Sansa flicked on the light on her nightstand and sat up. 

Jon came strolling back in and crawled into bed a minute later. He looked up at her. “Lyanna just needed to be changed. She’s fine.”

Sansa stared at him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“How did we fall asleep together again?”

“I put you to bed after your third glass of wine.” He coughed, “Lightweight,” and grinned at her. “Then you asked me to stay and talk to you. So I did. And then we both fell asleep.”

And apparently now that her bedroom had been breached, Jon decided to stay. 

He frowned. “Do you want me to leave?”

She held up a hand. “Nope. Stay. I did tell you to make yourself at home.”

“Can you get the light?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” She flicked off the light and then lay down, staring up at the ceiling. 

After a few minutes, Jon got up and turned the lamp on, on his side of the bed and sat up. “I can hear you thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“You think this is weird.”

“You don’t?”

“Kind of? But…not really.”

Sansa sat up and looked at him. “Why not?”

“Because it makes sense. I love you. I love your daughter—”

Sansa held up a hand. Her heart started to race. “When you say you love me…”

“Yeah…like that.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah. You?”

She bit her lip and looked at him – really looked at him. How did she miss it? She nodded, smiling. “Yeah.”

He smiled, leaned over, and kissed her. “When my place is done you and Lyanna can just move in with me.”

“That makes sense. It’s bigger.”

“Backyard for Lyanna…”

“Right. Okay, well I’m glad we worked this out.” She lay back down. “Can you get the light?”

“Well…no.”

“No?”

Jon tugged the covers off of her and crawled over her, bracing himself on his arms over her. He grinned. “This is the part where we’re both up because of Lyanna so we have sex.”

She smiled and drew his face down. “You’re so right.”


	3. Operation Dolly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran, Arya, and Rickon join forces as matchmakers for Jon/Sansa. Prompt request fill from Tumblr.

“You’re going to be babysitting us on Friday night, right?” Bran asked Sansa on the Monday preceding the Friday he was asking about. 

Sansa shoveled another spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in her mouth and nodded. She missed the nod to Arya at the other end of the table, and the note Rickon made in the notebook he carried around with him. It wasn’t anything spectacular just a little notepad but he wrote things he deemed important in it. It certainly helped his father out of a pickle with his mother when Catelyn had accused Ned of making plans to attend a football game with Robb and “forgetting” that he was supposed to go to Home Depot with her. She claimed she told him the previous Sunday that she needed his help in picking out a new sink for the bathroom. 

“Actually, Mom,” Rickon had said, “You told him you didn’t know when you wanted to go.”

Catelyn had looked at her son with some annoyance. Ned had looked at her expectantly. She’d grudgingly apologized. 

Unbeknownst to Sansa and Jon, Robb’s best friend, Rickon had notes in his notebook regarding them and little things he’d picked up on while practicing his observation skills. 

_April 21st: Sansa said Jon was cute to her friend on the phone._

_May 1st: Jon watched Sansa walk out of the living with a goofy look on his face._

_May 5th: Sansa got really red when Jon told her he liked her sundress_

_May 15th: Jon asked Robb if Sansa could join them for a movie so he had someone to talk to while Robb made “moon eyes” at Jeyne. Robb slugged Jon on the arm._

_May 20th: Sansa and Jon talked for a really long time outside on the deck and then Robb came out and asked Sansa if he could have his friend back now. Sansa flipped him off. Jon laughed. He also turned red._

_May 30th: Sansa asked Robb if Jon would be coming over too when Robb had Theon over. Robb said no. Sansa pouted._

It was Arya that had read Rickon’s notes and had exclaimed, “Sonofabitch!” She then took Rickon’s notebook (without his consent) to Bran. Thus, a plan had been formed. 

Rickon called it Operation Dolly after the movie about a matchmaker named Hello Dolly! that his Gram made him watch with her once. Arya rolled her eyes at the name. Bran was indifferent. Both these reactions were recorded. 

Since their parents had theater tickets Friday night, and Robb was going on a trip with Jeyne, Sansa was scheduled to babysit. Their plan was to surprise Sansa with dinner and tell her she had to get all dressed up for it. Then, Arya was going to call Jon and tell him he had to come over. She didn’t have an excuse worked out yet, but she’d told them not to worry. 

Rickon just hoped it wasn’t stupid. He didn’t want to write stupid things in his notebook. 

Jon would come over and find Sansa sitting at the dining room table with candles lit and then they’d serve Jon and Sansa dinner and, as Arya put it, “Let things happen naturally.”

Rickon could see a few gaps in their plan, but otherwise it was pretty solid. He couldn’t wait. 

xxxxxxx

Operation Dolly had been set in motion. 

Parents were gone. 

Sansa was upstairs putting on the sundress that Jon had complimented. (That was Rickon’s idea).

And Arya was on the phone in the kitchen with Jon while Bran stirred the pasta on the stove and Rickon poured milk very carefully into wine glasses. 

“Sansa can’t come to the phone, Jon,” Arya said. “Her hand is stuck down the tub drain.”

Bran and Rickon both looked at her. 

She looked at them and threw up her hands. She looked stressed out. Jon was asking too many questions. Rickon had been afraid that would happen. 

“No, I can’t take the phone to her,” Arya said. “Because it’s been getting static-y when I bring it to the second floor. Jesus, Jon, stop asking questions and help her. She has to take care of us! How can she do that from the bathroom?” She sighed. “Thank you.”

She hung up. Bran frowned. “I just realized that we made Sansa get all dressed up for this, but Jon won’t be. He’ll be in jeans and a t-shirt like always.”

Arya waved a dismissive hand. “She’s just wearing a stupid sundress. Nothing fancy.”

Rickon couldn’t get over the fact that he was going to have to put Arya’s excuse to get Jon over in his notebook. He sighed. Planning ahead on that one would have been a good idea…

“I’m going to light the candles,” Arya muttered and pointed to Rickon. “Can you handle the milk?”

Rickon gave her the thumbs up. 

Sansa came down just as the candles were lit and the milk was set on the table. She cooed over how beautiful it all looked and then asked if they needed help since there were only two settings for the table and not four…

Rickon panicked. 

Then Jon came barreling in the house and stopped short in the doorway of the dining room. (He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt as predicted). He pointed at Sansa. “You got your hand out of the drain.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Arya called me and said you got your hand stuck in the tub drain and that you needed me to help right away.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed and she looked at her sister. “Is that so?”

Jon now pointed to the candlelit dinner for two and looked puzzled. “Are you expecting someone?”

Bran came in then cradling a big bowl of pasta with Ragu dumped on top of it. “Dinner!” he announced. “Sansa, go sit where the pink wine glass is. Jon, you have the clear wine glass.”

Rickon watched Jon and Sansa look at each other. Smiles sprouted and spread, and then they made their way to their seats.

xxxxxxx

Rickon, Arya, and Bran watched from around the corner in the kitchen as Jon and Sansa smiled at each other and clinked their wine glasses. Jon got up and served Sansa some pasta and then took some for himself. 

Bran’s stomach grumbled. “Bloody hell. I’m hungry.”

“You didn’t leave out some pasta for us?” Arya hissed. 

“No.”

Rickon sighed. 

“We can hear you,” Jon whispered. 

Rickon sighed again. 

“Go get some bowls and we’ll give you some pasta,” Sansa said. 

Arya grabbed the bowls. Bran grabbed spoons. Rickon snagged the shaky cheese off the table. 

When Sansa had served them all, the three trooped back out into the kitchen and sat on the floor facing the dining room. Best seats in the house. 

Sansa and Jon both blushed a lot. And laughed. And smiled goofily at each other. Then they got up and blew out the candles, engulfing them both in darkness. 

“Hey!” Arya exclaimed and got up. She ran to the wall and hit the switch. The light shone bright and they found Jon and Sansa standing at the head of the table with their arms around each other. They were kissing.

Bran laughed behind his hand. Arya made a face and went to put her bowl in the sink. Rickon just smiled and grabbed his notebook. He wrote: _Even though Arya’s excuse was stupid and Bran forgot to leave out pasta for us so we wouldn’t have to interrupt Sansa and Jon’s dinner, Operation Dolly was a success!_


	4. How You Like Me Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon x Sansa Modern AU: Sansa surprises Jon by visiting him at his school, shocking his friends and classmates who thought he made her up.  
> Prompt request fill from Tumblr.

Before Jon opened his dorm room door, he did one last scan of his room to make sure it was clean and that nothing embarrassing was hanging out of any drawers. He then smoothed down his dress shirt and heaved a deep breath. 

Sansa didn’t know that he still got nervous when he was about to see her. It wasn’t an unbearable kind of nervous. It was the kind of nervous that came with being excited to see your girl. The girl that held your heart in her delicate hands. 

Sure, he’d known her for forever considering he was her brother’s best friend, but as soon as he stopped thinking girls had cooties he’d had a crush on Sansa. It carried him all through high school, and he’d suffered in silence. He’d watched her date one asshat after another and he’d even attempted dating a couple times. But it had always been Sansa. It would always be Sansa. 

So, finally, he’d worked up the courage to tell her how he felt one afternoon over the summer before he was to start college. He’d made a right mess of it, barely able to get the words out before he’d just planted one on her. 

Sansa had just smiled brightly at him, laughed, and said, “Oh, Jon. I like you too.”

After that every minute free was spent with Sansa. And they were still going strong. Every chance she got to visit him at school, she took it. 

Now, Jon opened the door, ready to kiss her senseless and tell her he was taking her out to dinner. Except, it wasn’t Sansa on the other side of the door. 

It was Sam, Theon, and Tormund. Jon’s smile fell. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

They all laughed. 

“Wow, you’re really playing this whole ‘I have a hot girlfriend’ thing to the hilt, huh?” Theon laughed and pushed his way in with a six pack of beer. 

“Come on, man, don’t be sad,” Tormund said with a shake of his head. He was carrying a shopping bag. 

Sam just shrugged and patted Jon on the back on his way inside. 

“I can’t believe you guys think I would lie about having a girlfriend,” Jon said irritably. 

Tormund pointed to Sansa’s picture on his nightstand. “Come on, man. Her? She’s way too hot for you to talk to.”

“We get it man, you don’t want to go to parties because you don’t want to have to talk to any girls,” Theon said with a laugh. “Just tell us the truth already. This girl is not really your girlfriend. She’s just some girl you liked in high school and now you’re pretending to date her so you don’t have to date anyone here.”

“Well, I really am his girlfriend.” 

Jon turned at the sound of Sansa’s voice and he smiled wide. She was wearing a red dress. God, she looked fucking killer. 

She came over to him and kissed him sweetly, and then looked at his friends who were all gaping at her. “He did like me in high school, and he waited until _after_ high school to tell me,” she continued. “And he better not be dating anyone else here.” She placed her hands on his chest and smiled. “Jon Snow is all mine.”

“Yeah, he is,” Jon said with a smile. He wrapped an arm around Sansa and looked back at his friends who were still gaping at them. “We’re going out to dinner,” he said. “You guys better be gone by the time we get back.”

He slammed the door on their way out and Sansa giggled as she cuddled into his side. “Perfect timing, huh?”

Jon grinned. “I’ll say. And in that dress? Thank you.”

“Good thing I didn’t announce I’m not wearing any underwear,” she said with a mischievous grin. 

Jon stopped in the hall and looked at her. “Are you really…not?”

She bit her lip. “I’m really not.”

He took her hand and pulled her back to the direction of his room. She laughed, but followed him. “Those idiots need to get the fuck out of my room,” he said. 

“What about dinner?” she asked with a laugh. 

“Tormund had a grocery bag. I’m sure there’s food in there.”

Sansa laughed again. 

As his friends left his room, they were the ones who suddenly had a hard time talking to girls as they stumbled over their words to tell Sansa how sorry they were and how it was nice to meet her. There was respect in their eyes when they looked at Jon now. 

_That’s right, asshats_ , he thought. _Eat your fucking hearts out._


	5. I see Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy strikes and Robb dies. Robb has become a psychopomp and Sansa and Jon can see him. Hijinks ensue. Prompt request fill from Tumblr.

Jon was worried Sansa was going to break up with him. Their relationship was still new and a bit delicate, and he sometimes wondered if Sansa really wanted to be with him or if she just needed someone to cling to after her brother died. 

They’d both been devastated when Robb had been taken from them in a car accident. Jon had grown up with the Starks next door. He and Robb had played basketball together all through high school, and they’d gone to prom with their dates together. 

After he’d passed on just six months ago, Jon and Sansa had started spending time together and then one thing had led to another and they’d fallen into bed, and then fallen into dating. 

Jon loved her. He knew that without a doubt. He just worried that it was too soon for Sansa. She’d called him that afternoon while he’d been at work saying she needed to talk to him about something. He had been expecting it. She’d been acting strange the past couple weeks. He didn’t want to push her into staying with him if she wanted to go, but he also wanted her to know that he loved her and would wait for her. 

She said she was coming over for eight, and he was ready for her. He’d cleaned, gotten wine and beer, and set out a bowl of Halloween candy. Jon remembered that as soon as the stores started carrying those bite size assorted candy bars, Sansa would buy bags of them and have them hidden all over the house. Even in her car. It was goddamn adorable. 

Jon was getting her wine glass out when he heard her voice through his open kitchen window. 

“Would you stop already?” she groused. “I know what to say…how is it you’ve become even more of a pain? … Keep it up and I’m getting a priest… ‘The spirit of Christ compels you’, that’s all I’m gonna say.”

What the hell? 

Jon strode to the door quickly and opened it. He expected to find someone with Sansa. 

There wasn’t. 

She was alone. 

He looked past her and all around. 

“Jon? You okay?” she asked. 

He cleared his throat and looked at her. “Uh, yeah, I just…I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

Her arm jerked into her side and she heaved a sigh. Her eyes went up and she jerked her elbow out as if elbowing someone. 

Jon stared at her. “Um, are you going to come in?”

Sansa smiled and swept up the stairs and in the house. She shut the door abruptly behind her and Jon swore he heard someone grunt. He looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t at all had someone annoy the fuck out of me because they got the day off and wanted to visit.”

Jon wasn’t following, but he was trying really hard to. “Did…Arya come for a visit today?”

“That might have actually been easier.”

Jon was lost. “Do you want some wine?”

“God, yes.” She walked over to the counter and ignored the glass. She grabbed the bottle. She pointed to the living room and Jon nodded. He grabbed a beer and then joined her. 

She sat on the couch, bottle in hand and took a long sip. “Shut up,” she muttered. 

“Excuse me?” Jon said. 

She looked at him. “Not you.”

He stared at her. Then drank half the bottle of beer and set it down on the coffee table. “Okay, what’s going on? Level with me here, Sansa. You’ve been acting strange.”

She took a deep breath as if bracing herself and then placed the wine bottle on the coffee table. “Well, you know how Robb died,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said slowly. 

“Well, he’s um…he’s around.”

Jon stared at her. “What?”

She looked towards the window across the room and said, “Would you please?”

 _Oh God,_ Jon thought. _She’s sick_. “How do you mean he’s around?”

“He’s a ghost. He became a psychopomp, actually. You know, like Hermes the Messenger God? He takes the dead to Hades…”

There were some good institutions in the area, right? That’s what Jon was thinking. He covered Sansa’s hands with his. “I’ll help you through this, Sansa. I promise.”

She furrowed her brow and then sighed. She shook her head. “I’m not crazy, Jon.” She held out her hand toward the window in the universal gesture for ‘wait a minute’ and said, “Shut up, Robb.”

“You’re telling me that Robb is a ghost, he’s visited you, and he’s a pyschopomp?”

“Surpriiiise.”

“Will you excuse me for a minute?” Jon asked. 

She blinked. “Um, okay.”

Jon got up and went to the bathroom down the hall. He braced his hands on the counter and leaned over it. Okay, Sansa had lost it. That was fine. He wasn’t going to leave her. He was going to help her through this. But how did he get –

The bathroom door slammed. He started and looked at it. “Sansa?”

He heard her padding down the hall just as the shower turned on. Jon’s eyes went wide. Out of the corner of his eye he caught something white being raised in the air. He looked and found his toilet paper unraveling in mid-air to the floor. The toilet flushed. Then he heard a squeaking sound and looked to the now steamed up mirror and gaped at what he saw written there.

_How you like me now?_

_Oh, and Boo._

The bathroom door opened and Sansa stood there. She looked at the mirror and rolled her eyes. “The shower, Robb,” she said. 

It shut off.

“Can you pick up the toilet paper?” she asked. 

_No_ formed on the mirror. 

Sansa held out her hand to Jon. “Let’s go talk.”

Dumbly, Jon took her hand and followed her back to the living room. They sat down together on the couch and Sansa told him how she’d started seeing Robb at her house, at first not very well, but then as she got used to seeing him, he started becoming clearer as time went on and now she had no problem at all seeing him. 

“And now,” she said, “With the veil between the worlds thinning at this time – you know, Halloween and all – it’s even easier to see him. So, he wanted to try. And I wanted him to. Because when he’s not working he’s driving me nuts.” She looked towards the window again. “Well, you are. I love you, but man…”

Jon just didn’t know what to say or do. But he could not discount what had just happened in his bathroom. 

“Jon,” Sansa said. “Robb wants you to look over at the window and relax your eyes. Kind of like you’re gazing into a candle. Just…relax.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible, Sansa. You just told me Robb is a ghost that is visiting you and that he’s a psychopomp. You’re talking to air and some weird shit just went down in my bathroom and you want me to relax?”

“Yes.”

He just looked at her incredulously. 

Then she took his face in her hands and kissed him softly. That helped. She broke the kiss and looked at him. “Look at the window, Jon.”

He did. 

And he saw Robb, flickering in and out like a hologram, dressed in the suit he had on in the casket. Then he heard Robb’s voice saying, “Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope. Help me, Obi Wan Kenobe, you’re my only help.”

“Clever,” Sansa said. 

Jon blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Robb was still there. He smiled and waved. Jon looked at Sansa. “I think I need to lie down.”

“I know honey, it’s a lot to take in,” Sansa said gently. She stood and held out her hand and Jon took it, grasped it tight. 

Sansa led him down to his bedroom and he kicked off his shoes and crawled onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. “So,” he said. “Robb, huh?”

Sansa sighed and crawled onto the bed beside him. She curled into his side. “Yep.”

“How did he take us? Is he…is he in here right now?”

“No. I told him that when you and I were in a bedroom together it was off limits. He did his big brother grumbly thing and threatened to shave your head in the middle of the night, but I threatened to have a priest exorcise him and he backed off.”

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.”

She giggled. “On the bright side…Robb.”

Jon’s smile was shaky. He liked the idea of having his best friend around again, but he was still wrapping his mind around this. “Yeah,” he said. “Robb.”

xxxxxxxx

Later that night after Jon and Sansa had spent hours talking about this new development and Jon had seen Robb again a few more times, they changed (Sansa wore one of his t-shirts) and retired to bed to actually sleep. 

Jon got up close to dawn to get a drink of water and he was tense all the way to the kitchen that he could see Robb just hanging out in the hall or the kitchen. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel about seeing his dead friend just appearing out of nowhere. It would take some getting used to. 

On his way back in to the bedroom Jon felt a hard smack on his ass. He paused in the doorway and heard a laugh. 

Jon climbed into the bed beside Sansa and drew her close. 

“You okay?” she asked sleepily.

“Robb just smacked my ass,” he said.

“The bromance lives on,” she muttered and fell back to sleep.


	6. Robb Geller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Riachan who sent me this: Robb actively shipping Sansa with Jon because he's the only one worthy of his precious sister (because Robb Geller is real to me.)

Robb was a shipper, even though when Sansa told him that he looked at her blankly and asked what the fuck a shipper was.

He’d started his campaign of Team Jon and Sansa shortly after Jon had finally dumped Ygritte. Apparently, wild and free Ygritte had been getting wild and free with someone else. Jon had caught them together.

“Hadn’t you wanted to break up with her for a while anyway?” Sansa had asked when she and Robb had gone out to cheer him up with some pizza and beer.

“Yeah,” Jon had admitted. “But then I had a reason.”

That was Jon all over. He needed a reason to do something, and apparently being incredibly unhappy wasn’t reason enough.

“Jesus,” she’d said. “Are you Irish or something?”

He’d looked at her blankly.

“You’re willing to put up with something for forever even when it makes you miserable,” she’d explained.

He’d sighed. “Yeah. It’s a problem.”

And Robb wanted her to date him?

“You have to admit that he can be pretty funny,” Robb said one afternoon as they sat together on the deck. She’d been reading and sunning herself. Robb had just casually came out to join her. There was nothing casual about Robb when he was on a mission.

Sansa frowned and looked at him. “Yeah, but he’s funny in the way that he just kind of walks into situations or says things that are not meant to be funny but they are. He’s accidentally funny.”

“Still, you would get a laugh.”

Sansa went back to her book.

“He’s really smart, too. He’s made Dean’s List every semester.”

Sansa looked up at her brother again.

“Plus he knows his way around cars,” Robb said. “He could change your oil.”

“You change my oil.”

“Yeah, but he could, too.”

Sansa sighed. She put her book down and waited for Robb to finish.

“He’s really sweet to his girlfriends – not that he’s had a lot. Just Val and Ygritte. But he treated them like Queens and they shit all over him.”

Silence. Sansa looked up at the sky.

“Plus, he’s good looking. You know for a guy.”

Sansa looked at her brother. “Do you want to date him, or do you want me to date him?”

Robb shot her a look. “I just think you’d be good for each other. You’re not a bitch like his other girlfriends. I mean you can be a bitch, but not like them.”

“I’m sorry, when do we get to the portion of this matchmaking scheme where you suck up to me?”

He gestured to her. “Exhibit A.”

“Bite me.”

“Exhibit B.”

But then they were both laughing and it didn’t matter.

And so it went for the next week. Robb putting in a good word for Jon every chance he got. Oh, she wanted ice cream – did she know that Jon’s favorite flavor was chocolate, too? 

“Oh, it’s not vanilla?” she’d asked dryly. Robb had glared at her.

Oh. she wanted to go to the beach – did she know that Jon was a lifeguard one summer?

“Yeah,” Sansa had said. “I was there when that girl pretended she was drowning just to get his attention and he turned bright red and stormed off the beach when she asked him out. Didn’t he quit after that?”

Robb just sighed.

Finally, Sansa told her brother point blank that if Jon Snow was interested in her and wanted to take her out on a date then he would have to ask her himself.

“I cannot date a man that can’t talk to me directly,” she told him.

Besides, she was pretty sure Jon didn’t have an interest in her in that way. Sure he got all nervous around her sometimes, but it was Jon and he got nervous around all girls. Well, except for her sister Arya, but Arya was also twelve.

This was just Robb wanting his best friend and his sister to date, because Robb hated her choice in men. Turned out, so did she. She chose real winners. And by winners she meant losers. If they treated their girlfriends like shit, then where the hell did she sign up?

So, when she told Robb that Jon had to ask her out directly, she was pretty sure that was the end of that.

Until Jon showed up one afternoon clutching a bouquet of wildflowers (her favorite) and asking if he could speak to her alone.

He was so sweet and endearing when he asked if he could take her out on a real date that Sansa couldn’t say no. She even found herself getting that fluttery feeling in her belly. With wildflowers in hand, she’d all but floated back into the house.

Robb was standing in the kitchen, arms folded across his chest and looking at her knowingly.

“Shut up,” she said as she walked past him.

He just laughed.


	7. Wimp In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt in which Sansa goes after Jon - any situation.

“All right, you just gotta go in there and tell him how you feel,” Margaery told Sansa. 

“In front of all those people.”

“Yes! You can do this, Stark. Don’t wimp out on me now.”

Sansa wasn’t sure when she’d actually wimped in. Wait. Was that even a thing? She wasn’t sure. Her brain was pretty fuzzy at present. That’s what a few shots of tequila and a couple beers did to a lightweight. 

Somehow, during all the partying that was going on inside Margaery’s apartment, Sansa and her friend had ended up outside with Margaery giving her a pep talk about just laying it out on the line for Jon that she liked him and wanted to take their friendship to the next level. 

Margaery pointed to the window of her first floor apartment. “Do you want Jon to end up dating that Ygritte bitch because you were a complete wuss and didn’t tell Jon how you felt? Because that’s the way it’s gonna go down. Ygritte lived in a fucking commune. She shit in the woods and ate twigs for breakfast. She won’t be afraid to tell Jon she wants to jump on it.”

Sansa started jumping up and down as though she was a fighter ready to go into the ring. “I can do this. I’ll just go in there and tell him I like him.”

“Yeah!” Margaery shouted enthusiastically. 

“I’ll tell him I want to jump on it.”

“And then what are you gonna do, Stark?”

“I’m gonna jump on it!”

“Yeah!”

Sansa stopped jumping and looked at her friend. “Just so we’re clear, when we say ‘jump on it’ we mean jump _him_ , right?”

Margaery pointed to the door. “GO!”

Sansa did. She actually kind of feared for her life if she didn’t. She pushed her way through the crowd and stopped in front of Jon who was talking to Ygritte. She ignored the roiling her belly.

Jon looked at her and his brow furrowed. “Sansa, you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m…I have something to say to you.”

“What is it?”

Sansa opened her mouth and then promptly puked on his shoes. 

xxxxxxx

“I am so pathetic,” Sansa whined as she lay in Margaery’s bathtub. 

Jon was kneeling beside her and he wiped her tears away with a damp washcloth and then pressed the cloth to her forehead. 

“You’re not pathetic,” he said gently. “How do you feel?”

“Like a loser. I am a loser.”

“Hey, you happen to be talking about my best friend so cut it out.”

“I messed it all up.”

Jon ran a hand through her hair. “What did you mess up, sweetling?”

“I was supposed to tell you how I had a crush on you and wanted to date you before Ygritte could beat me to it,” she whined. “But then I went and puked on your shoes and it’s all Margaery’s fault for getting me pumped and then I was jumping.” She wiped at her tears. “Just close the shower curtain and leave me here, Jon. I’ll just sleep in here. Cold and alone.” Jon started to laugh. Sansa looked at him in horror. “You’re laughing at me?!”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“Well, I’m not laughing so you’re not laughing _with_ me!”

Jon snorted and then shook his head and looked at her. “It’s just that you are kind of pathetic right now.”

Sansa looked away from him. 

“But it’s so flipping adorable,” he finished. 

Sansa didn’t know what to make of that. 

“Sweetling….look at me.”

“No,” she said petulantly. 

“I want to tell you something.”

“So tell me and go.”

She heard him move and then his voice was right in her ear. “I want to date you, too.”

She whipped her head around and they knocked heads. Jon started to laugh even as he rubbed his forehead. Then he reached up and rubbed the spot on her forehead that collided with his head. 

“Are you okay?” she asked and reached up to touch him. 

Jon took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Do me a favor?”

She nodded solemnly. 

“Don’t move. Just stay there, okay?”

She nodded. 

“I like you – I have a crush on you, too,” he told her. “I don’t want Ygritte. I want you. And now I know you feel the same, so when you’re sober we’ll have a real talk about it, okay?”

“So now what?”

“Now I’m going to take you home and put you to bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. Okay?”

She smiled. “Okay. I’m really glad I puked on you.”

“You say the sweetest things, Sansa.”


	8. Don't Move, Apollo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a prompt, Sansa is working on an art project (comic, painting, drawing, or something) and needs someone to pose for her.

“I feel ridiculous.”

Sansa frowned. “Don’t move.”

“I’m not moving,” Jon retorted. 

“Your mouth is moving.”

“I can’t _talk_ to you while you’re making me do this?”

Sansa snickered and Jon glowered at her. But to his credit he didn’t move. 

“My arm is getting tired,” he said after a minute. 

“One more minute,” she said absently. “I just want to get your arm just right.”

For an art project for school, Sansa was doing a series of pieces on the Greek Gods. So far, Jon had been her model for Hades, Hermes, and now Apollo. He had his arms up as though he was about to shoot a bow and arrow. He was also shirtless and just had a pair of white boxer briefs on. 

Her eyes drifted to the briefs and she licked her lips as her thoughts took a devilish turn. 

“Don’t move,” she said and put her pad and pencil down. 

He looked over at her with just his eyes. “Why? What are you doing?”

She grinned and then knelt down before him and pulled his boxer briefs down. She kissed his cock and it began to harden quickly. His hands went to her hair as she took him in her mouth and began bobbing her head back and forth on him. 

“Sansa,” Jon gasped. “Fuck…”

“Does this make up for having to pose for me?” she asked when she took her mouth off his cock. 

He growled and bent to rid himself completely of the boxer briefs. Then he pulled Sansa with him to the chair she’d been sitting in and sat down. She draped herself over him and guided him inside her. 

Within minutes they were both shouting their release. 

Jon pressed his sweaty forehead to her chest. “If you promise that will happen every time I pose for you, I’ll even pose for the Goddesses too.”

Sansa laughed happily – and triumphantly. She had him now!


	9. Hot Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to a mixup, Jon and Sansa are roomed together, because the college admissions office thinks Jon is a girl named Jan.

Sansa was just finishing making her bed when the door opened and in walked a boy. A very cute boy. He had shoulder length curly black hair, pouty lips, gray eyes, and the longest lashes on a boy she’d ever seen. 

He had a suitcase in his hand and he dropped it and frowned. “This is Westoros Hall, right?” he asked. 

Sansa smoothed the corner of her comforter and nodded. “It is.”

“And this is the third floor, room 304?”

Sansa nodded again. “Are you Jan?” She grinned. “Is your sister Marcia on her way up?”

He didn’t laugh. “I’m Jon.”

“Jan?”

“Jon.”

“Are you…on your way to being Jan?”

He stared at her. “What?”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive. I’m not sure what the correct terminology is when you’re making the transition from one sex to the other. I mean, I know it means that you’re transgender, but I don’t know what to call—”

“Whoa. Wait, no.” He held up his hands. “I’m not transgender.” He furrowed his brow. “Why would you…I mean…?”

“Well, with the hair…and the lips and the lashes.”

“My hair?”

“It’s long.”

“Plenty of guys have long hair.” He frowned. “My lips and lashes?”

“Your lips are kind of pouty. Like full and exactly the kind of lips I wish I had. Plus your lashes are long. And then there’s the fact that your name is Jan.”

“It’s not Jan. It’s Jon. Jon Snow. They fucked up and must have thought I was, in fact, a Jan so…yeah.”

They both stood there looking around the room as though it had the answers. Sansa began to rock on her heels. “Sooo…where’s the rest of your stuff, Jan – I mean Jon.”

“Downstairs with a friend. I should probably see if I can get this straightened out. I know it’s a co-ed dorm, but I don’t imagine they meant for us to share the same room.”

“If you want to leave your stuff here until you get it straightened out you can.”

“Thank you, uh…what’s your name?”

“Sansa.”

“Sansa. Right. Pretty name. I thought it was Russian guy’s name.”

Sansa squinted, rolling that around in her head. “Okay,” she said slowly. 

“So apparently we both made judgments…”

“Mine isn’t really a judgment though. It said Jan on the info I got.”

Jon rubbed his forehead and then tossed his hair back and Sansa flattened her lips together and just looked at him. “I’m really not Jan,” he said. 

“I believe you.”

“Not that there is anything wrong with being transgender. I fully support anyone who is.”

“Do you know anyone who is?”

“Catelyn Jenner? But that’s not – I mean, that doesn’t count, right since she’s a celebrity?”

Sansa shook her head. “Did you support her before the change or after? Cause she’s pretty hot. If after, then you’re just, like, a typical guy.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“I feel like you’re just being really sensitive right now.”

He sighed. “I’ve never had someone not believe that I was a guy before. It’s a little odd for me.”

“I believe you. You’re a guy. With guy parts.”

“I’m not going to whip out my dick to prove it.”

“Well, God no, no one wants that.”

“It’s a perfectly nice dick, mind you.”

“I’m…sure? Listen, Jon, I feel like we’re just getting into weird territory here. You make it sound like being a girl is a bad thing. It’s not. I like being a girl.”

“I’m not saying that at all. Feminist all the way here. I fully support women, I just don’t happen to be one and I…I like being a guy. Can I say that?”

She shrugged. “You just did.”

“Okay, so I’m gonna go and get this straightened out before this conversation gets anymore convoluted.”

“Whatever you say, Jan.”

“Jon.”

“That’s what I said.”

He sighed. “No, you—forget it.” He grabbed for his suitcase and just as he picked it up it fell open. Out fell a hair dryer and mousse. 

Sansa’s brows rose. 

Jon scrambled to pick up the hairdryer and mousse and stuffed them back in his suitcase. He closed it and looked at her. “I’m really Jon,” he said one last time and then left the room. 

Sansa burst out laughing as soon as he left. Oh, she sure did hope to run into him again! 

And she did. An hour later he came back with his suitcase. Sansa looked up from the book she’d been reading with an arched brow.

“I got it straightened out but I can’t stay with that guy,” he said. 

“Why?” Sansa asked. 

“He had an altar of bones set up. I can’t stay with a guy who has an altar of bones.”

Sansa made a face. “So how is this going to work?”

Jon sighed. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to pretend to be a girl.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Bones, Sansa. The guy had bones. One of them looked human. I just can’t.”

Sansa sighed and got up off the bed. She went to her makeup bag on her bureau and dug inside. She extracted a tube of red lipstick and walked over to him. Jon looked at the   
tube of lipstick she was brandishing and sighed. He dropped his suitcase. 

She smirked. “May I?”

He nodded, looking resigned. Sansa carefully applied the lipstick and then instructed him to purse his lips together. He did and then looked at her. 

“Gorgeous lips,” she said. “You’ll have to shave though. Unless you want to be the bearded lady.”

“Do you ever wonder about what choice in life led you to this moment?”

Sansa giggled and patted his arm. “It’ll be okay, Hot Lips. I’ll take care of you.”


	10. Wolf Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the first part with Sansa transforming into a wolf.

Jon led Sansa back to their home and his heart ached as he watched her struggle to walk correctly. It was as if it was a strain for her, as if she was just learning how. How long, he wondered, had she been walking on all fours?

When they made it to the gate, she looked up and made a keening sound in the back of her throat.

“We’re home, Sansa,” Jon told her. “Winterfell.”

She nodded and he saw tears in her eyes. He wanted to weep as well. After thinking his family dead and gone, it brought him joy to see one returned…and sorrow to see what they had been returned as.

The gates opened and in they went, Jon making sure they were closed behind them. People stopped and stared. Murmurs spread like a hum throughout the crowd. Jon glared at them as his hand tightened around hers. He wanted to yell at them, but he was afraid to frighten Sansa.

She whined and Jon drew her close to his side. “Go about your business then!” he shouted. Sansa jumped and then growled and buried her face in his chest. Jon held her close. “She is your Queen!”

Some didn’t stop their staring. Others looked shamed and went about their business.

Jon made the trek to her old bedchamber. On the way, he stopped the maids going about their work and told them to ready a bath and begin preparation of the Queen’s rooms. Sansa was home. Winterfell belonged to her, ergo she was the Queen here. He would fight anyone that challenged the claim. Even Daenerys.

When they got to her bedroom door, Sansa stopped and stared at the door, her head tilting to the side.

“It’s your bedchamber, Sansa,” Jon said gently.

She whined again, sounding like a wounded animal. Jon gathered her close. “Tis all right, Sansa. This is your home. Would you like to see?”

She whined again, but it sounded less desperate this time. Jon extracted himself from her arms and pushed her door open and she stood there and stared inside without moving. Jon waited. He wouldn’t push her.

Slowly she stepped forward, her movements a bit jerky. She inhaled deeply and then sniffed about the room a bit, whining here and there.

Her room was, for the most part, untouched. The bedding was gone, as were the drapes, but that was an easy fix. Sansa took everything in, sniffing as she did.

The maids bustling in with water and a tub for her bathe in startled her and she growled and bared her teeth. One of the maids nearly dropped a pail of water in fright.

“No, Sansa, no,” Jon said, rushing to assure her. He sent a stern look at the maids. “Quickly now.”

While the maids worked, Sansa went to one of her windows and peered out, putting her hand upon the glass. Jon remembered a time when he’d look up from the yard where he’d trained with Robb and Theon and see her peering out that very window.

“Rrrrr….” she said. “Rrrr…”

“Are you trying to say Robb, Sansa?” Jon asked quietly as she came up beside her.

She shut her eyes tight and emitted a sound a pure agony. Tears sprang to Jon’s eyes. She was in pain. How long had she been in pain?

She clawed at the window as tears fell from her eyes, dropping quickly down her cheeks, wetting the dirt and the blood caked on her skin.

Jon grasped her hand to keep her from clawing at the window and she growled at him. “Sansa, no,” he said firmly. He hated this. He spoke to her as one would a family pet.

She jerked away from him and looked down. One of her brushes sat on top of a table. She touched the bristles with her fingers very delicately.

“The bath is readied, Your Royal Highness,” one of the maids said, and her voice shook. Jon wasn’t sure if it was him she feared or Sansa. He was willing to bet it was both of them.

“Thank you,” he said. “Please ready some food for the Queen. As well as her bedding and see if there are dresses about night rails about.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

“Now, go. The Queen must bathe.”

Jon led Sansa to the bath after the maids had departed and stood before her while she stared down into the water. “Sansa, it’s time for a bath.”

She looked at him. He tugged on the tie of his cloak. “We’re going to take this off and get you clean. Yes?” She grunted and nodded and he slowly undid his cloak, pushed it off her shoulders, and laid it on her bed. He took her hand. “Step in, one foot at a time,” he directed.

She did, wobbling a bit, and then sank down into the tub, almost squatting instead of sitting. Jon instructed her to lean back against the back and spread her legs out before her. She did so and grunted.

Jon took his time washing her. He directed her to dunk her head, and he washed and rinsed her hair and scrubbed the dirt and blood, and what looked like the flesh of animals out from under her nails. He worked hard and diligently until her pale skin was clean and practically glowing.

Then he directed her to stand and step out of the tub. He dried her off and when she began to shiver, he drew his cloak around her again and had her sit on her bed.

The maids had found garments for her and carried piles of them in. Sansa watched them warily.

Jon dressed her, foregoing a corset – and he didn’t care how scandalous that might seem. She pulled at her garments, showing him she didn’t want them on at all.

“No, Sansa,” he told her. “You have to wear clothes.” He stayed her hands when still she tried to pull them off. “No, Sansa.”

Finally, she stopped.

He plaited her hair and then when the food was brought, he watched as she stuffed dug into the food with her hands, stuffing her mouth as though she hadn’t eaten in months. And, judging by the bones he’d seen when she’d been naked, she hadn’t.

When she looked at him and found him watching her, she stopped eating and wiped at her mouth. She looked embarrassed. It reminded Jon of that prim and proper sister he had once known who adhered to manners so strictly.

“It’s all right, Sansa,” he said gently. “Eat.”

She did, but slower this time.

After she’d eaten every bite and guzzled down goblet after goblet of water, she looked at him sleepily.

“Do you wish to lay down?” he asked.

She nodded and then pointed at him.

“You want me to lay with you?”

She nodded.

“Of course,” he whispered. Hang propriety. Hang everything but making sure Sansa got what she needed and was taken care of. He stood. “Let us retire to my chambers,” he said. “While they make your bed up and prepare your room. Yes?”

She grunted and followed him down to his bedchamber. She scurried onto the bed, climbing onto it on all fours. She sniffed at the bed, the way a dog would. When she got to the middle of the bed she stretched her arms out in front of her and her rump went up in the air. She let out a small whimper as she stretched and then lay down on her belly. Jon crawled in beside her, and lay on his side so he could look at her. 

She blinked at him and then her eyelids grew heavier and heavier and soon they dropped completely and stayed shut. Jon wasn’t tired. His mind was racing with questions. What had happened to her? Where was Lady? Had she become Lady? How? How long had she been like this? What would it take to get her back to the way she was?

Finally, after a long time of watching her sleep, he too fell into slumber.


	11. Sansa the Vampire Slayer Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will be a bunch of ficlets. Sansa is the Slayer, Jon is her Watcher and Robb is the vampire she has a difficult time resisting. Actually, she finds Jon pretty irresistible as well...why can't she just have both?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s1132.photobucket.com/user/Janina44/media/jonsa%20vampireslayer_zpsctlm72ls.jpg.html)

When Brienne stepped down as her Watcher, Sansa really didn’t want another one. It wasn’t as though Brienne was going away for good, she was still going to be around so there was no reason Sansa needed another Watcher.  
Especially if they were uptight prigs like the last one Sansa had “scared off”. Something about flinging a dagger near his head. Sansa pointed out that she hadn’t actually hit him. She was a great shot; it landed in the wall next to his head not in his head.  
But whatever. The Council of Wankers had decided to send her another one, citing that Sansa “needed discipline”.  
Whatever. 

So now here she was, waiting in Brienne’s training room that was part of her apartment, waiting for the Wonder Watcher to show up. While she waited she practiced throwing those pesky knives that had scared the other Watcher. Brienne had set up a dummy for her against the wall and Sansa flung them at the dummy – in the throat, the heart, thighs – anywhere it might slow a vampire or demon down. 

She was about to make the money shot – right in the heart – when the door opened behind her and threw her off. She got the dummy in the shoulder. 

“Were you aiming for the heart?” a deep British voice asked from behind her. “If so, you missed.”

Sansa spun around after grabbed another dagger from the assorted tray beside her. She held it up as she faced the intruder. “Yes, I—” She broke off. Whoever he was, he was hot. Dark curly hair that fell to his shoulders, gray eyes, a full mouth and a beard neatly trimmed. Even under the black clothes and black pea coat he looked muscular and strong. She hadn’t expected hot. 

“You were saying?” he asked with a tilt of his head. 

“I know I missed,” she said. “The door startled me.”

“A Slayer should not be so easily distracted,” he said. 

Sansa’s blue eyes narrowed and she flung the knife at him to hit the spot just before his feet. It landed perfectly, digging right into the wood floor. He looked down at it and then at her, looking not at all scared, not at all nonplussed. That annoyed her. 

Brienne came bustling into the room then and saw the dagger right away. She looked at the new boy and smiled. “I see you’ve met Sansa.”

He looked over at Sansa in what looked like amusement… “I was just about to,” he said and came over to Sansa. He held out his hand. “Hello, Sansa Stark. I am Jon Snow. Your new Watcher.”

Sansa looked down at his hand and then up at him. Slowly, she took his hand. She hadn’t been prepared for the current of.... _something_ that went up her arm and then through her body. His lips parted as he looked at her. He hadn’t expected it either. 

She drew her hand back quickly and wiped her now sweaty palms on her jeans. “Yeah, well, we’ll see how long you last,” she said and flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder as she sauntered toward Brienne. 

“I don’t scare easily, Sansa,” Jon said. 

She pulled the dagger out of the floor and then looked at him with an arched brow. 

“All that you do, I do as well. Just with less strength.”

“So you fight,” she said. 

“Yes,” he said with a nod. 

“And how many vampires and demons have you slayed?” Sansa asked challengingly. 

He smiled. It was a nice smile too, the fucker. “Not as many as you, but I’ve had my share.”

“Give him a chance, Sansa,” Brienne said, a light scold in her tone. 

Sansa sighed. She came over to Jon, got in close and looked up at him. He didn’t flinch. Instead he held her gaze. It was a bit intense, too. She presented the hilt of the dagger to him. “Let’s see what you got.”


	12. Sansa the Vampire Slayer Part II

“We’re supposed to be hunting this demon and you want to stop by a club?” Jon asked Sansa as she opened the chest that sat against the wall in her living room. He did a double take as he peered inside. “I thought there were blankets in there!”

She smirked as she extracted a dagger that fit between her breasts, and a stake she tucked in the back of her jeans. “Nope.”

Jon reached for the shiny Janbiya with the pretty hilt when Sansa slapped his hand away. He scowled at her and she grinned. “That’s one of my favorite daggers. You don’t get to play with it.”

“I wanted to look at it!”

“Look with your eyes.”

He sighed, but he couldn’t help but smile. He and Sansa had gotten off to a rough start, but she was slowly warming to him. His Slayer was smart as a whip, fierce, strong, skilled and utterly fucking beautiful…

He might have some issues when it came to being attracted to her...because he was. Very much so. And he felt an protectiveness toward her that he knew was partly a byproduct of his job as her Watcher, and also due to the fact that Sansa Stark just brought it out in him. Underneath that hardened exterior was a girl that had lost her father young and in the last year lost her mother. 

She had no siblings, only a few friends and, of course, Brienne. 

And him. 

Though he and Sansa were not exactly friends. He was her Watcher and he was cognizant of that. So was she. Suffice it to say their relationship was still in its infancy; they were still feeling each other out. 

“So this club—”

“Trust me, if there is something going on in this town that’s the place to go,” Sansa told him. She shut the chest and looked at him. “But I go alone. My contacts will clam up if they see you.”

Jon frowned. “Did they clam up when they saw Brienne?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. But who will have your back?”

She smiled and patted the top of his head. “You’re cute.” She headed for the door and Jon had no choice but to follow her. “I’ll meet you later at your apartment – flat – whatever you call it,” she said as she locked up. She grinned at him and did a twirl. “How do I look?”

She wore black leather pants that appeared painted on, and a red halter top. Her long auburn hair was down and fell around her shoulders, looking sleek and soft and Jon’s hands itched to touch it. 

“Gorgeous,” he whispered and her eyes went slightly wide. “And deadly.”

She smiled broadly and flounced off. “See ya!”

“Be careful!” he called after her. 

“I always am!”

xxxxxx

The Wall was always busy. It was the hottest club in town because it was the only club in town and it catered to high school kids, college kids, and adults. And everyone knew the night they could go, though Sansa was sure there were more than a few high school kids with fake ID’s who probably made it to the nights that didn’t cater to high school kids.

It was pretty standard as clubs went – dark, house music, booths against the wall, tables scattered about and a decent sized dance floor. Either bands or DJ’s kept the place hopping and everyone dancing while the bar at the back kept everyone lubricated. 

The Wall was also a hotspot for vampire and demon activity, but mostly vampires. Robb, the owner and a vampire himself, wasn’t a fan of demons. Sansa wasn’t sure what the story was there, but to each his own she supposed. 

“Slayer.”

She turned her head and smirked at the vampire who had just approached her. One of Robb’s underlings named Theon. 

“Hello, Theon,” she said. 

“Boss wants to see you.”

“That must be a new record,” Sansa drawled. “I’ve been here fifteen minutes tops.”

Theon didn’t even crack a smile, not that Sansa expected him to. Vampires tended not to like her, what with her being the Slayer and all. 

Theon led her through the crowd and then down a long hall where a few offices and rooms full of booze were. Way in the back was an elevator. A special elevator that led up to the top of the building where Robb’s office was. 

The man – _vampire_ – in charge oversaw everything from up there. 

Robb was Sansa’s contact. He kept her in supply of information, and she let him live. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but it worked. 

As was usual, Sansa’s traitorous heart started to race the closer she got to seeing Robb. He had that effect on her and she hated it. Hated it even more that he knew it, too. Where Jon was a bit scruffy and rough around the edges, Robb was debonair, clean-cut, and a smooth talker. Where Jon’s curls were long – to his shoulders – Robb’s were short. Both had neatly trimmed beards and had she just compared Jon and Robb?

 _Why?_

And, as per usual, as soon as Sansa stepped inside Robb’s posh office – complete with a leather couch, a television for whatever he wanted to watch (though he never did seem to watch TV), and a TV that had split screens so he could watch the club should he choose – she was hyper aware of him. 

He smiled at her as he got up from his swivel chair behind his desk and his blue eyes sparkled. “Sansa Stark, as I live and breathe.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t do either of those things.”

He chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose I do.” He came over to her and took her hand. He met her gaze straight on as he kissed the back of her hand. “Hello, love.”

She shivered, and not from his cool hand. “Hello, Robb.”

“How’s my girl?”

She pulled her hand from his. “I’m not your girl.”

He grinned. “Not yet.”

She moved away from him. Being close to Robb always did things to her. Kind of like the way being close to Jon did things to her. 

Fucking hell. 

She stopped in front of the TV that was off and gestured to it. “Do you ever watch anything on this?”

He moved so fast she didn’t hear him. Vampire speed and all that rot. But she knew he was behind her because he put his hands on her shoulders and kneaded. “Would you like me to put something on?” he said huskily in her ear. 

The door flew open then and in marched Theon, with an angry Jon in tow, two vampires on either side practically dragging him. 

Sansa’s eyes widened and she moved quickly towards Jon. “Let him go! What are you doing?”

The vampires looked at Robb. Robb nodded and waved a hand. They all left in a rush and Jon nearly fell over. Sansa rushed over to him to make sure he was okay. Jon pushed her away and glared at her. 

She glared back. If he was going to be ungrateful about her help… “What the hell are you even doing here?” she demanded. 

He looked at Robb. “I could ask the same thing.”

She looked over at Robb who was glaring at Jon. He growled. “Who is he, Sansa? I smell you on him.”

“Anyone ever tell you that smelling thing is really gross?” she asked. 

Jon straightened to full height and looked long and hard at Robb. “I’m Sansa’s Watcher. Who the fuck are you?”

Robb broke into a lazy smile. “I’m her vampire.”


	13. Wonder Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt request: a loving jewelry gift-giving scene

Sansa was having a rough week. She had just started a new job as a first grade teacher and trying to acclimate herself with the new school and kids, plus navigate her way through the different personalities of her co-workers was taking its toll. She had come home each day of that first week with some new project she wanted to prepare or some story about how Cersei Lannister, who taught second grade, was a wicked bitch to her. 

When Jon came home from work on Friday, he found his fiancé in bed already with the covers pulled over her head. 

He stood in the doorway and frowned, his hand tightening around the bag he held in his hand. 

“Jon?” she called out. “Is that you? If you’re not Jon and you’re a mass murderer instead, just make it quick.”

“Sansa, don’t even joke about that,” he scolded her lightly. 

“The sheets smell like you,” she mumbled. 

Jon smiled as he kicked off his boots. “Do they now?”

“Yup. It’s really comforting.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Sure. I’m not really in the mood to have sex though.”

“We don’t have to have sex,” he told her as he then took off his jacket and draped it over her vanity   
chair. 

“Do you mind if we stay under the covers?”

“Not at all.”

Jon slid into bed and burrowed under the covers with her, letting just a little light in so they could see each other. He still held the bag he’d carried in, in his hand. 

She pointed at the bag. “What is that?”

“Tell me about your day first,” he said. 

She sighed. “It was okay. Cersei and a couple other teachers snubbed me at lunch today. Like, what the actual fuck, Jon? She’s like the mean girl in high school that never grew out of being all cliquey.”

“She sucks.”

Sansa laughed. “Yes, she does.”

“Fuck her. I think you’re spectacular.”

She smiled. “Spectacular, huh? I feel like I got upgraded.”

“Well, you did that thing with your mouth last night so…I mean, I have to give credit where credit is due.”

Sansa giggled and Jon smiled. It was nice to see her smile and hear her laugh again. She hadn’t done much of that the past week. 

She tugged on the string of the bag. “What’s in here?”

He opened the bag and pulled out a package of underwear. Sansa blinked at the package and then peered closer. “Are those—?

“Wonder Woman panties for every day of the week? Why yes, yes they are.”

She laughed and pushed off the covers. “You got me Wonder Woman underroos?!”

He laughed. “Yes. You said you had them when you were a kid. You had a lot of stories that related to Wonder Woman and I thought these might help put a smile on your face.”

She beamed at him and hugged the package to her chest. “Mission accomplished.”

He reached in the bag and her eyes widened. “More presents?!”

He laughed again. She was like a kid when it came to getting gifts. “Yes. One more.” He pulled out a ring box. 

She looked at him funny. “We’re already engaged, Jon.” She held up her hand. “See? Ring.”

He smiled. “Just open it, brat.”

She grabbed it from his hand and opened it and then squealed and sat up. “It’s a Wonder Woman ring! Oh, Jon, it looks just like her tiara!”

He beamed at her. “Like it?”

“Like? I love!” 

“You’re my Wonder Woman, Sansa. I just want to remind you of that.”

She looked like she was going to cry. Instead she put the ring on and then tossed the package of underwear, the bag, and ring box off the bed. She climbed on top of him and straddled him. Then she kissed him and started peppering his face with kisses while murmuring, “I love you, I love you, I love you” after each kiss. He laughed and tried to chase her lips with his own, but she kept right out of his reach. 

Then she scooted down to straddle his calves. He looked at her with an arched brow as she started working the snap of his jeans. “I thought no sex?”

She grinned. “You deserve a treat.”

“Are you—are you going to do the mouth thing again?”

She nodded and smiled. 

Jon sighed and stacked his hands under his head. “See? Wonder Woman.”


	14. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a prompt request: sneaking around

Jon pushed Sansa into the darkened bedroom behind her as he kissed her and fumbled to get the door closed. It shut a little louder than they’d wanted and they both froze. No one heard. The Holiday party in the Stark household raged on without them. 

Jon stepped further inside the room and knocked into the bureau and cursed. 

Sansa giggled and went for the snap of his jeans while Jon tried to get her shirt off. “Jon, honey, I can’t get your jeans undone if you’re taking off my shirt.”

Jon dropped his hands and let her get his jeans unsnapped. But then she got stuck with the zipper. 

“Can I get a light up in here?” she asked as she bent over to see better.

“No, because if someone walks away like, say, your brother—”

“What is _with_ this zipper? It’s like I need the Jaws of Life… Oh, crap. Jon, my hair is caught on your zipper.”

“What?”

“My hair is stuck—”

“How the hell did you get your hair caught in the zipper?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I have a lot of hair. And your zipper _sucks_.”

Jon sighed. “We need a light.”

“Didn’t I say that already?”

“Hold on, just…walk with me.”

So, Sansa walked with him to the light, hunched over and hoping there wasn’t anything on the floor she could trip over. The light went on and Jon looked down and furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out the best plan of attack. 

“Whose idea was this?” Sansa grumbled as she kneeled on the floor. Her shirt was half off with one arm out of the shirt and half of it bunched up on one side with her bra showing. 

“We came to a mutual decision.”

“So, yours.”

“We used to sneak around all the time.”

Sansa sighed and then winced when Jon pulled on her hair a bit in an attempt to loosen it from his zipper. “That was a long time ago. We’re an old married couple now.”

“Hardly,” he muttered as he started pulling her hair strand by strand from his zipper whilst trying not to hurt her. 

“Who is—?” Sansa and Jon froze and she looked at each other in horror. Robb. 

The door opened and Robb froze. He looked at Jon, then Sansa, and then he shook his head. “Jesus Christ, guys, this is a family party. You’re not kids anymore. Do your freaky sex stuff at home like everyone else.” And then he slammed the door behind him. 

Jon and Sansa looked at each other and started to giggle, that was until they heard Robb call through the door: “And I will be kicking your ass when you leave that room, Jon Snow.”

“Fucking hell,” Jon muttered. 

“Well, if you get my hair out of your zipper I’ll make the ass kicking worth your while,” Sansa said with a waggle of her brows. 

Jon sighed and looked down at the bureau. Sansa watched him reach for something as he said, “How do you feel about scissors?”


	15. Blood Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a graphics set on Tumblr in which Sansa is a vampire.

Three days. Jon hadn’t seen or heard from Sansa in three days. It wasn’t like her to at least send him a text – she did so daily. When he asked her brother, Robb, if he’d heard from Sansa, he’d said no.

“Aren’t you two attached at the hip?” Robb had asked. “What’s up?”

Jon didn’t know. But he was worried. The last time he’d heard from Sansa she was going out with some friends and had planned on confronting her now ex, Joffrey, about his philandering ways.

Jon had tried to warn her against it. “Let that prick go,” he’d said. “You deserve better.”

“I know I deserve better,” she’d told him, “But I can’t let him think I’m dumb and never figured out that he cheated on me.”

He’d called. Texted. Emailed. Facebooked. Tweeted.

And, nothing.

So, he headed over to her apartment with some lemon cakes from her favorite bakery and a hot chocolate when his phone chimed. He glanced at it on his way out of the bakery.

It was a text from Sansa and it simply read: Can you come over?

He texted back: I was just on my way. I have lemon cakes and hot chocolate.

Sansa: Can you bring some meat? Raw.

He frowned and his hands flew over his phone: Raw meat? You want raw meat? How much? And why? What kind? Steak or Hamburger?

Sansa: Both. And a lot of it. The bloodier the better.

What the fuck? 

Jon wrote back his agreement to the task and after putting her treats in his car, he crossed the street to the butcher. He purchased two steaks and two pounds of hamburger meat. He should have asked what constituted “a lot”.

And then he was on his way. When he got to her apartment and let himself in (he was her best friend, of course he had a key), the first thing he noticed was how dark it was. The second thing he noticed was the scent. Sort of stale and metallic.

The third thing he noticed were droplets of what looked like blood leading to her bedroom. Jon was startled by this and everything else went by the wayside in his eagerness to get to Sansa and make sure she was all right.

When he attempted to push her door open he met with resistance, however. “Sansa?” he called out.

“Jon,” he heard her croak.

“Sansa, are you all right? What the hell is going on? Are you hurt? Let me in.”

“Did you bring the meat?”

He blinked. Stared at the door. She was worried about the meat? “Yes, I—”

“Drop it by the door and step away.”

“Sansa, what the fuck—”

“Just do it,” she snapped.

With a sigh, he dropped the bag of meat by the door and stepped away.

The door opened a creak and one pale hand with smeared blood jutted out and snatched the bag so quick it was like a blur. Jon blinked and started forward, but then the door shut and when he tried to open it he couldn’t.

“Sansa, what the hell is…” he trailed off when he heard the sound of her humming and…and eating? It was as if she was licking her chops and gorging herself. On raw meat?!

“Can I open some curtains?” he asked softly.

“No!” she exclaimed. “You can’t do that. I’ll die.”

“Sansa, what—”

“Go to the table in the kitchen,” she said. “Grab one of the legs of the table I snapped off and bring it with you to the living room. Stand against the wall and stay as far away from me as possible.”

This had to be a prank. Some kind of elaborate prank. “What is your endgame here, Sansa?”

“Please just do it, Jon.”

He heaved a sigh and nodded though she couldn’t see him. He went to the kitchen and found she had in fact snapped off four legs from one of her wooden chairs. He grabbed the first one he saw; it had a jagged pointed edge. He winced and walked back into living room wondering at what point he’d entered The Twilight Zone. Had she really snapped the legs off a kitchen chair? Had that really happened? And why?

He stood against the wall and waited for her to jump out and tell him he was on some stupid reality prank show or something. She didn’t.

“Are you against the wall?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“If I come at you I want you to drive that wooden leg into my heart.”

He stared at the closed door. Say what now?

“Say you will, Jon.”

“Sansa, I cannot do something like that—”

“Say you will or I don’t come out.”

“I will,” he said quickly.

“Can you turn the living room light on?”

He flicked it on behind his back and the overhead light blinked on. “It’s on,” he told her.

The door creaked open slowly and it felt like an eternity. Jon’s heart raced. He felt short of breath, waiting to see her.

She stepped out slowly. She wore black capris and a black top. She had blood tracks on her cheeks and blood around her mouth. There was what looked like a burn mark in the shape of a cross on her chest. Her hair was a mess and her skin was paler than ever. He could practically see the blue veins in her skin.

Jon stared at her, eyes wide.

She sniffed the air and let out a moan. “I can smell your blood.”

Jon cleared his throat. “Wh—what?”

“I can smell your blood,” she said again.

He stepped closer to her and she hissed.

She. _Hissed._

He saw a flash of…of _fangs?_

He shook his head. Okay, he was done with this crap. He stepped forward and this time she growled. _Growled like an animal._

“All right, Sansa,” he said. “I’m done with this game.”

“It’s not a game. I’m…different.”

“What happened? How are you different?” He was losing his patience with her.

“I went to the club. I danced, I drank, I saw Joffrey. I confronted him. He…bit me.”

“He bit you? Well, I always did think he had the temperament of a toddler.”

“He was different too,” she murmured.

“Sansa—”

“Do you believe in vampires, Jon?”

He blinked. “No. I don’t. Not at all.”

She bared her fangs and then asked, “Now?”

“You can get those at a Halloween store.” He held up the wooden leg. “Was this really necessary for the prank?”

“It’s not a prank. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m still hungry. The meat helped though, thank you.”

“Did you break the legs off so I would stake you?”

“If you got too close…the bloodlust is strong.”

“You’re not a vampire, you’re not going to attack me, and—”

She cocked her head to the side. “No?” Her leg jutted out backwards and she kicked her door further open.

Jon’s eyes went wide at what he saw there on her floor. A body. A dead body.

“I’m sure he didn’t think he’d be attacked when he knocked on my door this morning,” she drawled. “I need you to do me another favor now.”

“What?” he whispered.

“Help me get rid of the body.”


	16. Still Waters Run Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: how about Jon x Sansa with Jon as a quiet, reclusive mountain man?

He lived in a house he built himself on top of a mountain. That’s what Sansa had learned about Jon Snow from the people in town. She certainly didn’t learn it from him because he barely spoke. She often felt guilty actually, because when he came in to the country store where she worked to gather supplies she would ramble on and on to him. Mostly about her family, and she was sure he didn’t want to hear about any of it. 

It was just that he made her nervous. Not only was he pretty hot, but he was just so _quiet_. How did he manage to own a business (the Lumber Yard) if he never spoke? 

“I’ve spoken to him,” Robb told her when she mentioned Jon to him. “He’s a real nice guy.”

“Why won’t he speak to me?” Sansa asked. 

“Maybe you don’t let him get a word in edgewise,” Robb said. 

“Maybe he just doesn’t like you,” Arya chimed in. 

That was bothersome. So, Sansa made a point not to talk to Jon the next time he came in to the store. She didn’t want to ramble on to him about nonsense if he found it annoying. She imagined that he dreaded coming into town to get what he needed because that meant having to listen to her. She didn’t want to be the reason he dreaded going shopping. 

When he came to the counter, she smiled politely and said nothing. Just rang him up and told him the price and then wished him a good day. 

This went on for three visits. She didn’t even look up when he entered the store to wave at him anymore. He never waved back anyway. 

On the fourth visit when he came up to the desk, she put the magazine down that she’d been reading and began ringing in his items. 

“How’s Rickon doing with taking care of his dog?”

It took Sansa a second to register that Jon had spoken to her. When she realized it, she looked at him in surprise. He started to turn red. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “You mentioned a few weeks ago that your brother Rickon just got a dog. I asked how he was doing with it?”

“Oh! Uh, great, he’s doing great.” She laughed nervously. “I didn’t think you listened when I spoke.”

“I did,” he said softly. “And then you stopped.”

Now she was turning red. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

He frowned as he took out his wallet and looked down at it in his hands thoughtfully. Sansa waited, sensing he was working up to something. His shoulder-length curly dark hair hung down at his sides, almost hiding his face. He looked up at her, his gray eyes looking right into her blue ones. “Did you know that your canned soups are a dollar more expensive here than at the grocery store?”

She blinked. “No.”

“They are. And I buy the soup here anyway because it means I get to see you.”

Her mouth parted in surprise. He came in just for her? She put one hand on her hip. “Well, Mr. Snow, if you like a girl then you have to tell the girl.”

“You never let me get a word in edgewise.”

She barked out a surprised laugh and he smiled. She then gestured to him. He looked nervous for a second, and then he squared his shoulders and lifted his head. “Sansa, I like you. Would you like to go out sometime?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Will you actually speak if we do?”

“That depends…”

“On?”

“Will you let me?”

She smiled. “Definitely. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.”

He smiled. “Friday night? I’ll pick you up?”

She nodded and then jotted down her information and handed it to him. He smiled and left and as soon as he was out the door, Sansa called Arya. “Jon Snow just asked me out. He does like me, so you can suck it.” She hung up before Arya could respond.


	17. 2 Sweatshirts, a T-shirt, and a Hoodie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt: Jon’s clothes keep disappearing because Sansa is hoarding them in her room.

Jon said goodnight to Robb in the living room and went to grab his hoodie from the kitchen only to find it gone. He frowned, and went to the closet off the kitchen to see if someone had hung it up, but no. It was gone. 

Sansa came padding into the kitchen then and went to the fridge. “Hey, Jon.”  
He ignored the fact that he was standing in the kitchen with his crush and instead focused on the fact that she was wearing his hoodie. “Uh, Sansa?”

“Yeah?” she said, her back to him as she opened the fridge and pulled out a water. 

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he said. 

She turned and faced him and took a sip of her water. She looked down and smirked. “Oh, it appears that I am.” And then she sauntered off without a word. 

Jon stood there and stared at the space she’d just vacated. That had just happened, right? Sansa had just nonchalantly come in the kitchen wearing his hoodie, and then nonchalantly went back to her bedroom with no intention of giving it back?

Come to think of it, Jon had noticed over the past couple months that he’d lost a couple sweatshirts and a t-shirt, too. He’d thought he’d misplaced them, but was it possible Sansa had them?

He walked down to her bedroom and rapped on the door. 

“Come in!” she called. 

Jon opened the door and there was Sansa on her bed in short little shorts and his hoodie. Jon gulped. 

She smiled. “Hey, Jon!”

He had never been inside Sansa’s bedroom before, but he had seen it from the doorway. It was all white and pink and so very Sansa. His gaze drifted to the chair in her room. And there were his missing sweatshirts and t-shirts.

“Why are you stealing my clothes?” he asked her bluntly. 

“Because they’re comfortable—”

“Sansa—”

“And they smell like you.”

That brought Jon up short. 

“It took longer than I thought for you to notice, but I’ve had a crush on you for over a year now and you never picked up on that so…”

He gaped at her. Then, to get rid of that smug look on her face he said, “Yeah, well, I’ve had a crush on you for two years and you never noticed.”

She looked stunned and sat up straight in bed. “Really?”

He nodded and started to walk over to her slowly. “So I guess we should do something about that, huh?”

She nodded, but said nothing as he sat down beside her. He plucked her hand from her lap and held it in his own. 

“I think this means we go on a date,” she said. 

Jon nodded. “It does mean that.”

“You should probably, ya know, ask…”

He smiled. “Sansa, will you go on a date with me?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

He looked at her. “Seriously?”

She grinned. “I can’t make it too easy on you, Jon. If you’ve had a crush on me for two years then you’ve been terribly slow and can probably wait another day for my answer.”

He sighed and then chuckled. “It’s never going to be boring with you is it, Sansa?”

She smiled. “Nope. But there is one thing though…”

“Yeah?”

“This doesn’t mean you get your hoodie back.”

“Can I at least have my sweatshirts and t-shirt?”

She pretended to think about that and then nodded. “Sure. I can just take them again another time.”

He laughed softly and then leaned in and kissed her sweetly. 

“And now you’re stealing kisses already?” she murmured. 

“Do you mind? Two years is a long time to wait.”

Sansa gripped his t-shirt and took him down with her as she lay back on her bed. “I don’t mind at all…In fact, I have a little secret.”

“Yeah?” 

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, “I’m not wearing anything under this hoodie.”

Jon groaned and kissed her again. Nope. Dating Sansa was definitely not going to be boring at all. And he couldn’t think of a better way to get his clothes back than by taking them off her.


	18. Still Waters Run Deep 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of Mountain Man Jon

Sansa felt so tongue-tied when Jon picked her up for their date that one would have thought she was the quiet one. Meanwhile, Jon complimented her on her dress (simple, white and red, with a cardigan), made sure the car was warm enough for her (it was winter), that she liked Italian (he made reservations at an Italian restaurant), and then asked how her day was.

“Oh, you know, it was work,” she said. “It was fine.”

She jumped when Jon placed a hand over her fidgeting ones. She looked at him in question. “You’re nervous,” he said. “Why? You talk to me all the time.”

“Yeah, I talk because I’m nervous.”

He looked surprised and withdrew his hand. “I make you nervous?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re always so quiet. Because you’re hot.”

He grinned. “You think I’m hot?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know how hot you are.”

He laughed. “I don’t. What do you think I do? Check myself out in the mirror all the time?”

“No, but…now you’re just that annoying hot person that doesn’t even know they’re hot and that just makes you endearing.”

“Annoying _and_ endearing.”

“Yes.”

“You make me nervous too.”

“I was under the impression that people as a whole made you nervous.”

He laughed again. “No. I just don’t feel the need to say a lot. I say something when I have something to say. When you just listen to people you learn a lot about them. For example, I have learned how much you love your family because they were what you told me about. I learned that you and your older brother, Robb, are very close. You and Arya have a contentious relationship, and you dote on Bran and Rickon. I’ve also learned that you have a lot of respect for your parents, and you work at the store they own so you’re also loyal.”

She blinked. “Yeah…wow. Okay, so you know a lot about me.”

“I know what you’ve told me, and I know some from what I’ve observed.”

“What have you observed?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“You have a sweet tooth, but you seem to prefer candy to chocolate. Plus, you own a lot of red and yellow clothing.”

“You really _have_ been paying attention.”

He grew quiet then and then he cleared his throat. “I noticed you when you and your family moved into town and took over the store.”

“You noticed me over six months ago?”

He nodded.

“And it took you this long to talk to me?”

“I’m shy.”

“People say you’re a recluse.”

He seemed to consider that and then shrugged. “I guess in a way I am.”

“Can we switch things up tonight?”

He glanced at her with a frown. “How do you mean?”

“Tonight I want you to do all the talking and I’ll listen.”

He didn’t look sure. “You want me to do all the talking?”

“Well, not all of it. Let’s face it, I can’t keep my mouth shut for that long.”

He laughed.

“But I want to hear your stories, Jon. I’m sure people seeing us out tonight won’t be able to believe you asked me out, but they also won’t be able to believe that you know so many words.”

He laughed again and nodded. “All right. So, what do you want to know about me?”

xxxxxx

Jon told her about his family (it was just his Mom and his older brother now), his dog Ghost (white Siberian husky), and his ex-girlfriend (Ygritte; she broke his heart and left him). He also told her about starting his own business and building his house. At the end of dinner, he asked her if she wanted to see his house to which she readily agreed.

It was a gorgeous place, too. Big and cozy and warm and there was even a path to a babbling brook in front. Despite the chill in the air (it was almost winter), Sansa wanted to see it and so they made the trek down with Ghost in tow. 

“It’s so beautiful here,” she whispered, and then shivered.

A second later she felt his coat come around her shoulders and she smiled at him. He smiled back, shyly.

“I can see why you prefer to be here rather than downtown,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t know. There are things downtown that hold a lot of appeal for me.”

Sansa smiled down at the water, and felt her cheeks get red. She couldn’t look at him while she was blushing so profusely.

Silence fell for a while and then Jon asked softly, “So, what have you learned about me tonight, Sansa?”

She smiled and turned to face him. She stepped closer and, despite how nervous she felt, looped her arms around his neck. “I’ve learned that you love your mother very much and miss your father. I’ve learned that you look up to your brother, and from the sound of it, he is supportive of you. I’ve learned that you take pride in what you do, and you really take the time to make sure you’re making the right choice for yourself before you commit to something.” She leaned in closer so their lips were but a hairsbreadth apart. “And I’ve learned that you’re incredibly sweet and a gentleman.”

Jon kissed her then and she knew she was in trouble. Her belly fluttered and her skin tingled. She didn’t even feel the chill in the air when his jacket dropped from her shoulders as he drew her even closer.

When they parted, they were both panting.

“I’ve also learned that you’re a fantastic kisser,” she murmured.

“Let’s go back to the house,” he rasped. “There’s a few more things I want you to know about me.”

She smiled broadly and nodded, and Jon gripped her hand tightly in his the whole way back.


	19. Sansa the Vampire Slayer Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At some point I will separate out the Slayer chapters into its own thing...

“So is this your plan then, Jon?” Sansa asked as she threw a roundhouse kick at the horned demon who had jumped out at Jon while he’d been waiting for her to finish rounds through the cemetery. That would teach him not to join her, the _Slayer_ , on patrol. 

He’d been pissy ever since he’d met Robb and Jon pissy meant he gave her the silent treatment. He let her know what he was thinking loud and clear through narrowed eyes and pursed lips. 

“My plan was not to get jumped, Sansa,” he bit out and fumbled in his pockets for holy water. 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so busy _ignoring_ me,” she said and kicked the demon in the chest. It then grabbed her ankle. 

“Sansa!” Jon shouted, worry laced through his voice. 

The demon dropped her to the ground on her back. 

“Sansa!” Jon shouted again and finally found the bottle of holy water. 

While Jon opened the bottle and sprayed the demon with the holy water, Sansa rolled over onto her belly and then climbed to her feet. The demon screamed and started flailing as smoke erupted from its scaly head. 

Sansa pulled out the knife she kept between her breasts. 

“Sansa, do you mind?” Jon huffed and gestured behind her. “The demon?”

Sansa looked over her shoulder at the screaming demon and then looked back at Jon. “Will you just tell me why you’re so pissed at me?”

“Sansa, we can talk about this—”

“It’s because Robb is a vampire, right?”

He sighed, looking angrily defeated. He knew by now how stubborn she could be. “Yes,” he said. “It’s because you’re a Slayer and should not be cavorting with a vampire!”

“I am not cavorting with Robb. He…helps me.”

“Helps you? Helps you?!”

She looked startled by his outburst. “Wow. Good show of emotion, Jon Snow.”

She felt the demon getting closer, its screams had quieted. She spun and stabbed it in its chest. It screamed again and dropped to the ground. Sansa moved around the demon so that she was at the crown of its head. She then got down on her bottom. 

“Sansa, what are you doing?!” Jon shouted at her. “Kill it!”

She rolled her eyes as she put her booted feet on either side of the demon’s skull. “I am,” she grunted and used her feet and the power in her legs to snap its neck and then rip its head clear off. She made a face as green ooze came from its torso. “That’s disgusting.”

She looked up at Jon who looked equally impressed and grossed out and still pissed off. He pointed at her. “A vampire doesn’t help the Slayer!” he shouted at her. “You should kill him, not pay him a friendly visit!”

He stormed off and Sansa sighed and got up. She ran after him and managed to pass him in no time flat. She stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “Robb gives me information on demons and sometimes even vampires that I need to take care of,” she told him. “In exchange, I don’t kill him. Besides, he doesn’t feed on humans.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“He’s showed me the bags of blood in his fridge,” she said with a shrug. 

“Great, so he steals from the Red Cross, is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’d rather him do that than feed on someone!”

“I’d rather him dust, Sansa!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen!” she exclaimed. “I’m not going to kill him and neither are you.”

His eyes narrowed. “And if I did?”

Sansa marched over to him and leaned in until she could feel Jon’s breath on her face. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You would protect him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he demanded. 

“I already told you why.”

“I call bullshit,” he said. “You have feelings for him.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

Jon leaned in and whispered, “Liar.”

She arched a brow. “Jealous?”

Jon’s expression darkened and then he grabbed her and kissed her. 

_So_ , Sansa thought, _yes_.


	20. Convince Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Jon x Sansa. Stuck in an elevator while mad at each other :)

“I don’t know why this is such a big deal, Sansa,” Jon said to his wife as they stepped onto an elevator together. The elevator that would take them up to meet with their mortgage consultant. Jon wasn’t sure how they were going to agree on anything in this meeting when Sansa had been giving him the silent treatment since he told her yesterday he’d accepted his cousins invite to dinner that night. 

Sansa wasn’t a huge fan of Daenerys but it wasn’t as though he couldn’t see his family, ever, because of that. He saw plenty of the Starks – which he didn’t mind considering after Sansa, her brother Robb was his best friend. But Catelyn, her mother, had never been much of a fan of his and if Sansa thought spending an evening with Daenerys was uncomfortable…

“You didn’t ask me, Jon,” Sansa said as she pressed herself against the farther wall that was away from him in the elevator. “You just accepted without asking me.”

“Maybe because I knew you would come up with some excuse not to go,” he snapped. “Like you had to put fucking carrots in your hair or some such shit.”

She arched a brow. “Do you mean keratin?”

He waved a hand dismissively and pressed the number for their floor. “Whatever.”

“Are you saying you don’t like it when I make my hair all soft for you?” she asked challengingly. 

He pointed at her as the elevator started its ascent. “Don’t you dare. You know I hate it when you do that. Don’t make this into something else. And, for the record, it’s not for me that you do that. You do it because ever since that jackass Harry Hardyng said he loved your hair and couldn’t stop stroking it – _my wife’s hair_ – you’ve been putting it in.”

“I did not do it because of Harry fucking Hardyng, Jon. You told me first that you liked how soft my hair was after I did the treatment and I did it for _you_. And why are you bringing this up _now_? That was months ago!”

“Because it bothered me!”

Sansa rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. 

“Sansa, listen,” he said gently in an attempt for calmness. 

But then the elevator lurched to a stop. The lights went out, then a dim light, like that of a generator went on. 

Jon and Sansa stared at each other. Jon reached over and attempted to push a few buttons. Nothing. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Sansa muttered and slid to the floor. “I’m glad I peed before we left the house.”

“That’s why we were running late,” Jon muttered. 

“No, we were running late because you took forever to get Ghost in the house.”

“He needed his morning run!”  
Sansa sighed and looked away from her husband. Her husband who she loved very much, but was just irritated with today. She just wished he’d asked her about having dinner with Daenerys. All she wanted was the option to say no. She hated feeling as though she didn’t have a _choice_. 

“Do you think they know we’re stuck?” she asked. 

As if on cue, they heard a voice shouting to them from…somewhere. “Are you guys okay? Can you hear me?”

“We can hear you!” Jon shouted to the disembodied voice. 

“We’re working on getting you out!” 

“Thank you!” Jon shouted back. 

Sansa sighed again and looked up at her husband. He looked down at her. “You know I love you, right?” he asked. 

“Of course,” she said. 

He jammed his hands in his pockets. “And?” he prompted. 

“And what?”

He looked at her in exasperation. “And you love me, too…”

“Jon, of course I love you. You couldn’t infuriate me as much as you do sometimes if I didn’t love you so much.”

He broke into a smile. “Ditto.”

“I just wish you had asked me about having dinner with Daenerys. You know I hate not having a choice.”

“But tell me the truth: would you have said no?”

“Of course I would have said no, but then you would have convinced me to say yes and I would have agreed because I know how much you love your cousin and even though I think she’s an evil bitch monster from hell I would have sucked it up. For you. Just like you suck up family dinners for me even though my mother turns into evil bitch monster’s twin.”

He laughed. “So I have to convince you now, huh?”

She nodded. “Yes. I can’t think of a better man for the job.”

Jon got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to her. He kissed her deeply, causing them both to moan. “How would you like me to convince you, sweetling?”

She smiled seductively and ran her fingertips gently over his mouth. “With that lovely mouth of yours.”

He grinned and though Sansa knew this was probably not the best time for him to go down on her, she didn’t much care when she was coming apart under his talented mouth and agreeing to at least one more dinner with Daenerys. 

But just one more. She didn’t want to get too carried away.


	21. All my Lovely Locks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Sansa’s a hairstylist and Jon’s going to get his hair cut and has a meltdown

It wasn’t often that men had a complete meltdown in her chair. It was typically women who _thought_ they wanted that cute pixie cut they saw in a magazine, but didn’t realize that in order to get it, they needed six inches (or more) of their hair chopped off. When they’d see the pile of their hair on the floor, the waterworks would start. 

This, however, was something Sansa had not been prepared for. A grown man, a very handsome grown man, with adorable curly locks that went down to his shoulders, was having an ugly cry in her chair. 

His hair was wet from the wash she’d given him, and though she thought it was a shame for him to cut such lovely hair, she was there to do what she was told by the customer. Sometimes, she tried to steer them away from the path of badness (“I understand you want a change, but I’m not sure shaving your head is the right path. You’re not Britney Spears.”), but more often than not she did what they asked for. 

So, when this one, Jon he’d said his name was, told her that he’d just broken up with his girlfriend (she’d cheated on him) and he needed a change because she had always said how she loved his hair, Sansa went with it. She understood the need for changes when coming out of a bad relationship. She’d pierced her nose once after a bad relationship just because Joffrey had been so controlling and now she could do the things _she_ wanted to do. 

Sansa put the scissors and her comb down. “Jon, we don’t have to cut your hair. If you’re determined to have some of it cut, I could just give you a trim.”

He held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought I could do this. But it’s just everything, ya know? I feel like if I cut off my hair then Ygritte and I are really done.”

Oh, for the love…

 _I think you were really done when you caught her fucking someone else_ , Sansa thought. But she nodded in what she hoped looked like understanding. 

“Maybe you should take some time to heal before you do this. Maybe you’ll find you don’t really want to cut your hair after all. I mean, it is rather nice.”

He sniffled. “Is it?”

She smiled encouragingly and ran her fingers through his wet curls. He shivered. “It is. You could do other things to mark this new chapter of your life.”

He sniffled again. “Like what?”

“You could take a class in something you’ve always wanted to learn. You could throw out some of her things in your apartment or wherever you live.”

“It’s an apartment.”

She put her hands on his shoulders as she looked at him through her mirror. “You could take up a hobby. You could throw yourself a party…” She was running out of ideas. _Help me out here, Jon._

“I have always wanted to take up photography,” he said. 

“See! There you go! Now you can.”

He smiled. “Thank you…?”

“Sansa.”

“Thank you, Sansa.”

She smiled and undid the snaps of the cape. “You’re welcome, Jon.”

“Um, could you do me one thing?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Could you just put my hair back in a man bun? Ygritte hated it when I did that.”

Sansa smiled. “Sure.”

She dug out an elastic from her apron and tied up his hair neatly in the back of his head. He smiled at her and when he slipped out of the chair he held out his hand. She took it and they shook hands. “Will you do one more thing for me?” he asked when their hands parted. 

“Now you’re pushing it,” she joked. But seriously, he was. 

“When I’m over Ygritte, will you go out on a date with me?”

He was just so adorable. “Come see me after you’re over your ex and we’ll talk,” she said with a smile. 

He left with a spring in his step that was definitely not there when he came in.


	22. Strip Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Jon discovers that Sansa went to see Magic Mike with her friends and decides to give her a striptease (BONUS: Jon has lots of trouble removing his skinny jeans)

Sansa bit her lip and covered her mouth when the music began. It was, of course, “It’s Raining Men”. She didn’t want to laugh, but just the thought of her normally shy boyfriend doing a striptease for her was enough to send her into gales of giggles. 

It had all started when she’d come home from a girls night at Margaery’s and told Jon how she and the girls had watched _Magic Mike_. He’d asked her what she thought of the movie as if he really wanted to know. 

“Well, it was less with the stripping and more with the actual plot,” she’d told him. “Quite honestly, while I think Tanning Chatum is great in comedy, he does nothing for me otherwise.”

Jon’s brow had furrowed. “Isn’t it Channing Tatum?”

“I prefer it the other way.”

He’d laughed and then cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a little glint in his eyes. “What if I stripped for you?”

Her brows had nearly gone clear off her head. “You?”

He’d shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

“But that’s…like…putting on a show. Being the center of attention. You hate that.”

“Not when it’s me being the center of attention for _you_ , Sansa.”

Intrigued, she agreed to it and then he had her sit on the couch in their living room and wait for him to prepare. 

She was pretty certain neither of them had “It’s Raining Men” lying around on their iPods or otherwise, so that had probably been a quick download. 

And then he came sliding out in his socks a la Tom Cruise in _Risky Business_ , complete with sunglasses and Sansa snorted. Jon grinned at her and when he was standing before her, he shook his hips as he began to unbutton his white button down shirt. Halfway through, he stopped, cocked his head to the side, and then tore it off and threw it across the room. 

Sansa snorted again. He’d totally thought halfway through that tearing off his shirt was probably what a stripper would do. The sunglasses came off next. Those he placed on an end table. They were prescription. 

Then he turned and shook his ass in her direction and Sansa clapped and hooted for him. He turned and unbuckled his belt and though getting that off didn’t quite go smooth, he got if off nonetheless and tossed it along with his shirt. Then came the snap of his skinny jeans. He pushed them down and frowned slightly when he found it a bit difficult to push them down his calves. 

Sansa saw it happening before it actually did. 

Jon ended up on his ass with a hard slam when he attempted to balance on one foot and shimmy the jeans down and off.

Sansa got up and ran to him. “Jon, honey, are you okay?” she asked worriedly as he lay back, staring up at her forlornly. 

“Well, that sucked,” he dead-panned. 

“Oh, no, honey, that didn’t suck,” Sansa said and ran her finger through his hair at the top of his head. 

But then it happened. She couldn’t keep it in anymore. She burst out laughing. At first Jon looked a bit hurt but then he started to laugh as well. “When did it start to go south?” he asked. “The sunglasses?”

She nodded, wiping at the tears of laughter that fell. “Well, I do like how you so gently placed them on the end table. But I could see your entire thought process when taking off your shirt. Like – well, I should probably tear this off instead of unbuttoning it.”

“I did think that, and then also thought about the other two shirts I had just like it so I wouldn’t feel so bad ripping it off.”

“Oh my God, I love you so much,” she said through her laughter. 

“Fucking skinny jeans,” he muttered. 

Sansa laughed so hard her sides hurt. Jon watched her laugh, and then he joined in and laughed with her. 

“I have an idea,” she said when they’d calmed down.

“What’s that?” he asked as he caressed the side of her face. 

“Why don’t I strip for you instead?”

His smile was big and instantaneous. “Yes, please!”

And so she did. 

Without falling.


	23. It's Getting Hot in Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comes home to find Jon sleeping on their bed buck naked with her sleeping mask on.

As soon as Sansa walked into the apartment she groaned. Nope, the air conditioner had not yet been fixed. She sighed as she dumped her keys and purse on the kitchen table and went in search of her fiancé. Jon had stayed home to wait for the maintenance guy to come that afternoon; he had to be livid that he hadn’t come yet. 

Or, as Sansa saw upon entering their bedroom, he was fast asleep. Naked. And wearing her sleep mask. All thoughts of the AC being fixed (or not fixed as the case may be) flew out of her head. 

Sansa had of course seen Jon naked before, but this…he was spread eagle and there was just _so much_ of him to see! 

She bit her lip and rubbed her thighs together as her eyes scanned him from head to toe. So, now, how to wake him…

It had always been a bit of a sore spot for Sansa that she was not very sexually…experienced. Or maybe the correct word was adventurous. She and Jon’s sex life was not boring, not by any stretch, but she often wished she could surprise him more. She just didn’t know how. 

But now she was quite literally being presented with the opportunity to try. First, she kicked off her heels. Then her panties. She unbuttoned her blouse and undid the snap of her bra, letting her breasts free. She had this image in her head of a naughty librarian type seducing an unruly hot patron…

She kept her pencil skirt on. 

Then she hiked up her skirt and crawled between Jon’s spread legs. She pressed kisses to his soft cock, and it twitched a bit under her ministrations. Then she took it in her mouth and ran her tongue around the rim of it. She sucked. It hardened, and Jon woke up with a jerk. He pushed the sleep mask off and looked down at her. His eyes went wide. “Sansa, God…”

She smiled at him seductively and took him deeper in her mouth, remembering to relax her throat muscles as the magazines had taught her. Jon groaned and she felt his fingers in her hair. She then cupped his balls in her hand and his hips jerked, sending him even deeper in her mouth. 

“Sansa, oh God, sweetling, yes…” he murmured. 

She took her mouth of him, a line of saliva from her mouth to his cock. She wiped it away and then pressed his cock between her breasts and pressed them around his member. 

“Oh, fuck!” he cried out as he watched her move him up and down between her breasts. She bent her head, taking the crown of his cock in her mouth and suckled from it, lashed it with her tongue, and then took him back in her mouth as far down as she could. 

“I love you,” he breathed. “Oh, God, Sansa, you are the most perfect woman ever…”

She held back a laugh. So, this was what it was like to reduce a man to a puddle of need and want. 

Now, she wanted to go for a ride…

She hiked up her skirt and climbed atop him. Jon watched her, eyes dark, his expression purely lustful. She braced her hands on his chest and lowered herself slowly on his cock. Jon dug his head in the pillow and he gripped her hips and hissed. “Take me,” he growled. “Take all of me inside your hot pussy.”

His words alone caused her to get wetter. She leaned forward, giving him the perfect view of her swaying breasts and he sat up and latched onto one, suckling it in his mouth, teasing the nipple with his tongue and making it go hard. Then he did the same to the other. 

Sansa slammed down on him hard and they shared a moan. She rocked her hips, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock. 

His fingers dug into her hips and he growled. She was close, so close…she rode him harder. Faster. 

And then she screamed as she came and a second later she felt Jon’s release. He cried out and pushed upwards, driving himself even deeper inside her. 

Sansa felt utterly drained, and until that moment, hadn’t realized how much a sweat they’d worked up. She was drenched. So was Jon. 

He pulled her against his chest and kissed her passionately. “Sweetling, that was fantastic.”

“Wasn’t it?” she murmured. 

“Feel free to wake me up like that anytime.” 

She smiled and he slipped out of her as he rolled them to their sides. “I made us all hot and sweaty,” she said and peeled one of his curls away from his face. 

“I don’t care,” he whispered and kissed her again. 

“Howard never showed, huh?”

Jon sighed. “He said between ten and twelve. I called, he didn’t answer, and I decided to take a nap.”

“I’m so glad you did,” she said with a smile. 

“Me too,” he said with a grin. 

Later, after a shower (shared), they decided to go out for dinner. As they were leaving they found a note on their door from Howard.

_I came by and heard…stuff. I’ll be by tomorrow to fix the AC._

The couple turned red, but then Jon started to laugh and soon Sansa joined in. She did not plan, however, to be anywhere near the apartment the next day. She was probably never going to be able to look at Howard again.


	24. Drugged Up

Sansa hummed as she barreled down the stairs of her apartment building. She was gearing up to go for a run and when she opened the front door she found on the porch, on his side, her hot neighbor Jon Snow. 

The one she could barely talk to when they would occasionally see each other in the hallway. Sometimes she would hear him coming out of his apartment down the hall and she’d wait until he was gone before she left because she just didn’t know what to say to him. It wasn’t attractive when a redhead blushed. 

She blinked down at him as he lay on his side. How did he get there? Had he hurt himself? Now, horrified, she knelt down and pushed him slightly back to see if he’d been hurt, if there were blood stains or something. Had he been shot?

_Okay, this is Winterfell, Sansa, get a grip._

“Jon? Jon, are you all right?”

He mumbled something and rolled onto his back. 

She loomed over him. “Jon? Jon, are you all right? What happened to you?”

His eyes popped open and he looked up at her and smiled goofily. “Hello, pretty Sansa.”

Yep. It was happening. She was starting blush. However, she also noticed that he was slurring his words. She sat back on her heels. “Are you drunk? In the middle of the afternoon?”

“No, I got my wisssdom teeth out.”

Her eyes widened. “You got your – did you drive home?”

“No, I took a cab…” He frowned. “But then that small child wouldn’t let me in the apartment.”

Small child?

Sansa looked over her shoulder and found one of their neighbor’s camping chairs folded propped up against the house. She furrowed her brow and looked back at him. “That’s a chair, Jon, not a small child.”

“It told me I couldn’t go in.”

“Okay, well, I’m here now and you can’t sleep on the porch,” she told him. She got to her feet and Jon put his hand on her calf. “Don’t go pretty Sansa.”

“I’m going to help you inside,” she told him. She held out her hand and after missing it a few times, he finally managed to grab her hand. It wasn’t easy getting dead weight to stand, but after a few tries, Jon got to his feet and then stumbled forward and pushed Sansa up against the door. She froze and looked at him, eyes wide. He grinned goofily again. 

“Will you go on a date with me, Pretty Sansa?” he mumbled. “I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time but I’ve been kind of nervous about it and every time I see you, you run off.”

She gulped. “I – uh – yes, I – I would like to go on a date with you.” She pursed her lips together and sighed. “How about we get inside first and get you to bed?”

He frowned. “I don’t think I can perform right now.”

She barked out a laugh and shook her head. “No, Jon. That’s not what I mean. You need to sleep off the drugs. I’m assuming they gave you a local anesthesia?”

He nodded, looking solemn. “I think I still have gauze in my mouth.”

“Yeah, you kind of sound like you have marbles in your mouth. Let’s get you upstairs…did you get painkillers?”

“I think they’re in my coat pocket.”

“Great. Okay, let’s go.”

Sansa helped him up the stairs and into his apartment. She took off his shoes and socks and he took off his jacket. She set him up with a Percocet and water, and then he lay down on his bed and passed right out. 

Sansa meandered into the living room and put the TV on. She got herself a drink and settled in to find something to watch.

Two hours later he got up. He stood in the doorway and stared at her. “I didn’t dream you,” he murmured. 

She stood. “How do you feel?”

He pointed at her. “Did I – did I ask you out?”

She nodded slowly. 

“And you said yes?”

She nodded again. 

He smiled and then winced. “Excellent.”


	25. Wolf III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This contains rape of a man. Do not read if you do not like that sort of thing.

Jon's eyes popped open at the feel of hands on his body. He tried to sit up and was shoved back down on the bed. His mind reeled. He realized, also, that he was hard. 

_Sansa, wolf, cave--_

"Sansa," he gasped and attempted to sit up again. She shoved him back down and growled, baring her teeth as she hovered over him. Her blue eyes were like slits, her hair like a curtain around her face. She was naked and as he angled his head down and to the side he noticed what he had felt. She'd ripped his trousers off and was on her way to ripping his undergarments off as well. His body must have reacted to her touch while he'd been sleeping. "Sansa, what are you doing?"

She made short work of his undergarments and straddled him. Seven hells, she was wet. Finally, he got it. What she meant to do. "Sansa, no," he gasped.

She cocked her head to the side and her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Then she got into position. 

"Sansa, you can't--"

But then she did.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted.

She growled and started to move over him.

Jon's eyes rolled up in his head. Bloody buggering hell she was so wet and tight and he should not at all be enjoying this, but it'd been a long time and FUCK...

"Sansa, this is wrong," he told her as she bounced up and down on his cock. "You just attacked me..." He attempted to sit up and she jutted her hand out and put it around his neck, growling again. She squeezed just a bit and Jon got it - don't move. Don't even try it.

He gave up. There was nothing for it. Despite the fact that his body was responding, this was wrong. He hadn't been willing despite his hard cock, and Sansa wasn't in her right mind. If and when she came back to herself how would she perceive this? Would she think of it as him having taken advantage of her?

He welled up in tears at the impossibility of the situation.

And now he was nearing release.

She must have seen it in his face then for she stopped and cocked her head to the side.

Jon cried out, his cock aching for the release that had been so close. "Sansa..."

She leaned over him and licked at the side of his face where his tears fell. He shut his eyes, trying not think about the feel of her breasts against his chest.

"Please," he whispered desperately and then opened his eyes. She looked at him curiously.

Jon lifted his hips, and she understood now.

_Keep going._

She sat up and began to ride him again and soon, so fucking soon, he cried out and came inside her even as he thought - No! I cannot get a babe on her!

And then he felt her silken walls gripping him tight as she milked his seed from him. She threw her head back, her hair brushing his thighs and she howled long and loud.

Unbidden the thought came to Jon as he watched her: _Glorious._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may turn this into something longer. Frankly this time period freaks me out....


	26. Calling Jon Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just something that popped in my head after starting reading "The Replacement" by Brenna Yovanoff.

Sansa crept into her “brother’s” room and shut the door behind her quietly. Jon looked over at her from where he sat on the window seat and waved her over. Sansa walked over to him and when she was close enough, Jon pulled her down to sit between his legs. He wrapped his arms about her waist and pressed a kiss to the back of her head. 

“Mom and Dad in bed I take it?” he asked softly. 

She nodded as she placed her hand over his on her belly. “What were you looking at?” she asked, looking out the window. 

“Someone was out there watching the house.”

“Again?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. 

Sansa gripped his hand. “Do you want to go out there?”

“No. I want to stay here with you.”

“You lie,” she whispered. “They’re your people. You want to go to them.”

“You’re my people, Sansa,” he said fiercely and his arms tightened around her. 

“Jon…”

He sighed. “Yes, I feel pulled to go out there, but I can’t go, Sansa. I can’t leave you. I won’t.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be? Your real mom? Dad? Maybe it’s my real brother.”

“I don’t know,” Jon sighed and bent his head forward so that they were cheek to cheek. 

Silence fell and Sansa turned her head to look out the window and then she saw it. The figure in the dark. She pointed. “Is that him? Or her?”

She felt Jon stiffen. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“Sansa, you’re human. You shouldn’t be able to see the fae like that.”

“What does that mean then?”

She could practically feel him frowning behind her. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be something if all this time we both belonged in the faerie realm and really were brother and sister.” She meant it to be a tease, but part of her feared she’d said something that could possibly be true. “Jon,” she whispered fearfully. 

“No,” he murmured against her ear. “You’re not my sister, Sansa. I think I’d feel it. I think I’d know and you…you don’t feel like you’re my kin.”

“That does little to assure me. You don’t even know your kin, Jon.”

“You’re my Sansa, and you’ll stay my Sansa. I won’t go out there and leave you. Not ever.”

Tears pricked Sansa’s eyes. She wanted Jon to stay with her always, but… “Won’t it hurt to not see them?” she asked softly. 

“Maybe,” he said after a long silence. That meant yes, it would hurt not to heed the call of the fae calling him home. 

Sansa bit her lip and then opened her mouth to speak. 

“No, Sansa, forget it,” he told her. “I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no. A human in the world of the fae? Are you nuts?”

“Possibly, but I’d do it. For you. I know you’d keep me safe.”

“I don’t even know that world. How could I keep you safe?”

“I think you’d figure it out, Jon. You’re part of them. Part of that world. You see them. I trust in you. You’d keep me safe, and I would go with you so you wouldn’t have to go alone.”

Silence fell again and Sansa knew that meant Jon was considering her offer.


	27. Wolf Part IV

“Say my name, Sansa. Say Jon.”

Sansa blinked at him. 

“Try, Sansa, please,” Jon begged. They were sitting together in his solar, and after forcing her to stay in her clothes and sit still, he was now trying to get her to speak. She had managed to say Robb’s name a few days ago. 

There were places within Winterfell that seemed to trigger her. Places that made her whine and cry and attempt to sound out the names of her lost family. So far only Robb’s name had come successfully. 

“Jah-Jah-“she said. 

“Close,” he said. “Jo-on.”

“Jah-Jah-ahn.”

“Yes! Closer! Jo-on.”

“Ja-ahn.”

He smiled. “Close enough, sweetling.” 

She tugged at the bodice of her dress and looked at him in question. “No,” he said sternly. “That stays on.”

She frowned and whimpered, and Jon had to hide a smile. This Sansa was a far cry from the proper young lady she’d been. If her old self could see how she preferred to be starkers about the castle, she would be horrified. 

And if her old self knew how she claimed Jon every night in the most primal way possible, she would be doubly horrified. 

Yes, it was a bit of a problem.

After that first time he’d put her in her own bedchamber that night and barred the door. Problem was, she’d howled so loudly she’d woken the castle. Not to mention scared them. A dozen or so servants had quit the next day. They feared the Wolf Queen; they feared she would rip them to shreds in their sleep. 

Jon had had to let her loose and when he had, she’d growled at him and scratched him across the face, drawing blood. Blood that she’d then licked off of him. And then she’d ripped his clothes from his body and mounted him. 

He had been disgusted with himself that he’d been hard. That he’d wanted it. 

The next night he’d locked her up again and she’d howled her head off again. When he couldn’t take it anymore, when he could no longer bear to hear her in pain, and he was done crying over what had become of his cousin he let her free. This time she’d clawed so much at the door she’d bloodied her fingers and had lost a few nails. 

He never barred the door again. 

If she wanted him, she could have him. 

He couldn’t deny that he got hard the minute the sun started to set. That the anticipation of her mounting him set his blood on fire. 

When the sun rose he told himself what they were doing was wrong. What he was allowing was wrong. He could get a babe on her. She wasn’t in her right mind. She wasn’t Sansa. But even then, when she would nuzzle up against him in the bed they now shared, he could deny her nothing. He nuzzled her right back. 

His duties regarding the upkeep of Winterfell were falling by the wayside while he tended to Sansa. Every day he worked with her. He finally managed to get her to keep her dress on though she would sometimes whine and pull at the material in a plea to take them off. 

Slowly, he had introduced the servants that brought them food to her and got her to the point she wouldn’t growl. Or at least growl less. He’d learned soon enough that if one of the female servants got too close to him, that would set her off. It was perhaps wrong that he felt a thrill at that. 

However, the one time a male servant had brought a tray of food for them and Sansa had curiously sniffed at him, Jon had barked at her to stop. He had been surprised to learn that it hadn’t been merely because she had scared the poor man and it simply wasn’t proper for her to be doing that, but because he had been _jealous_. 

Somehow in her claiming of him, he had claimed her right back. He didn’t want to dwell too much on what that meant. She was his cousin. They’d been raised as siblings. It wasn’t right that they should fuck like this. That they should share a bed. That they should cling to each other in the dead of the night after they’d coupled. 

It wasn’t right that he should want her like this. 

It was a constant battle between what he felt and what he wanted, and what his duties to her were as part of her family. She was his sister once! She was his cousin now! He should have better control. He should stop her. She listened to him better as the days went on, and he was certain he could stop her now if he was firm with her. 

But he didn’t want to. And therein laid the problem. 

Perhaps he simply needed her as much as she needed him. After the war and the battles fought…after dying and being resurrected…he was just so tired of it all. Why should he not want something for himself? Why should he not take what little happiness he could find? 

Jon sat down across from her and buried his face in hands. Every day he went round and round like this. Every day he struggled with what he should do. Every day he ended up doing what he wanted to do. 

He felt her hand on his head, patting him and he looked up at her and found her looking at him curiously with her head tilted to the side. “Ja-ahn.”

He smiled wearily. “Just Jon, sweetheart.”

“Jahn.”

“Yes.”

She leaned forward and touched his face, flattening her palms against his cheeks. “What is it, Sansa?” he asked gently. 

She seemed to be searching for the word the same she did when trying to say her family’s names. “Sa-sa—“

“Sad?”

She nodded. “Sa-ad?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I am worried I’ll never get you back the way you were. And I’m afraid I’m doing wrong by you. I’m afraid I’m hurting you more by coupling with you. I’m afraid that when you are you again you’ll hate me. I’m afraid that I’ll get a babe on you…”

“Aff—aff…”

“Afraid.”

“Affrrr…affray…”

“Afraid. Ah-fray-duh.”

“Ah-fray-duh.”

“Afraid.”

She nodded. “Affrayed.”

“You’re getting better,” he said and just looked at her as she watched him, the concern plain on her face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Sansa,” he said. “I can’t seem to stop myself when it comes to you and I keep telling myself I should. That I have to. But then you come to me and I can’t not go to you. I can’t stop wanting it. Wanting you.”

And in that instant he knew what he had to do. What he had to do to make this somewhat better for her, and for them. 

He would marry her.


	28. Sansa the Vampire Slayer Part IV

_Sansa wasn’t sure who made the first move. Or when it had been decided that this was going to happen, but it was happening._

_Oh boy, was it happening!_

_She moaned when she felt Jon slide into her from behind, his cock stretching her pussy while Robb’s stretched her mouth. While Jon stroked a hand down her back and over her ass, Robb’s hands tangled in her hair, gently guiding her further down his cock._

_“That’s my girl,” Robb murmured._

_She looked up at him, her mouth full of his cock and moved her tongue from side to side as she worked her way down to the head. She let him go with plop and then gripped him and then dragged her teeth lightly up his shaft. Most vampires liked it a little rough. And a little bit of teeth, too._

_Jon smacked her ass and she let out a little yelp and looked over her shoulder at him. He smirked and rubbed the spot he’d just slapped. Then he slapped it again._

_Robb ran his fingers under her chin and turned her head to look up at him. “Does my girl like it a little rough?”_

_She nodded and as she took his cock back in her mouth, she fucked back against Jon behind her._

“What are you thinking about?” 

Sansa broke out of her daydream as she looked at Robb who was trudging through the path of tombstones to get to her. Sansa slipped off the one she’d been sitting on. “What are you doing here?” she asked. 

“You haven’t come to see me for a while now. It occurred to me that I might have to seek you out this time.”

He got in her space, the way he always did, and sniffed. “You were thinking something naughty,” he whispered. “I can smell your arousal.”

She pushed at him and walked way. “Honestly, Robb. That’s just gross.”

“It’s not. It’s actually rather sweet. A little tangy too. I bet you taste like an orange.”

A shudder went through her and she thought of how Jon had brought her off in the car with his fingers on the night they’d first kissed. He’d licked his fingers clean, humming as though in ecstasy the whole time. She could still hear him begging her to ride his fingers as though they were his cock. 

That was a week ago. They hadn’t done anything or even talked about it since. It had been glorious. It had also been confusing because, well, Robb. She had actually felt in some weird way that she’d been betraying him. It was ridiculous considering her and Robb weren’t anything at all. They just flirt a lot…or rather, he flirted with her and she just…okay, sometimes she flirted back. 

Goddamn vampire. Why did he have to be so hot? And goddamn Watcher, too. Couldn’t she have had some stuffy nerd in tweed? Could she get the one she’d scared away back? Instead both Robb and Jon had turned her into some kind of depraved hussy who wanted to fuck them both. 

“You’re going to have every vampire within a ten-mile radius after you,” Robb whispered in her ear. She shuddered and felt herself melt into him. 

He wrapped an arm around her and bit down on her earlobe. She started and whirled around to face him. “No biting, vampire.”

He grinned. “Whatever you say, Slayer.”

“What do you want?” she asked. 

He smiled and leaned in closer. “What I’ve always wanted, Sansa. _You_.” And then he kissed her, and Sansa thought: _This is going to be a problem_.


	29. Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on the prompt by the birthday girl qinaliel: "So...have you ever dreamt about me?"

“So…have you ever dreamt about me?” 

Sansa furrowed her brow at Jon’s question and looked over at him. They were outside laying on a blanket together under the stars. It had been Sansa’s idea after the barbecue her family had put on that afternoon. Everyone else was either inside or had left long ago. 

Sansa hadn’t been in any rush to go home considering she didn’t have a backyard to speak on at her apartment, and she didn’t really feel like having to listen to Margaery’s latest drama with the prick she’d started dating. She’d gotten all the angry texts from her friend about the flavor of the week during the barbecue; she got the gist of it. She didn’t really care to hear it all again from a ranting Margaery. 

So, instead, she had asked Jon Snow, her brother Robb’s best friend whom she’d been flirting with for the past few weeks, if he wanted to hang out with her for a little while and lay out under the stars. 

She was a hopeless romantic, she knew it. He knew it. Everyone who had ever come in contact with Sansa knew it. So, it stood to reason that of course she would think laying out under the stars under a blanket would be utterly romantic. And it was…except for the fact that she wished she had a pillow, something earlier had been digging into her back, and she swore she felt an ant crawling on her. 

She had just brushed the imaginary ant away when Jon spoke and completely distracted her. He grinned at her in the semi-dark. She wished she could say it was the glow of the moon casting such a romantic light on them, but it wasn’t. It was the light from the deck. 

“Fantasy-dreams or sleep dreams?”

“I have options?” he asked, looking intrigued. 

Sansa looked back up at the sky, her face reddening. 

Jon propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at her. “I’ve had both about you,” he offered. 

Now _she_ was intrigued. “Oh?”

He nodded. 

“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine,” she said saucily. 

He held out his hand and offered up his pinky. He wanted a pinky-swear. It was something Sansa had always insisted on making her siblings do when they’d negotiated on something. As if that alone was binding. Actually, there were possibly only a handful of scenarios in which it hadn’t been, but that’s what happened with siblings. It was so sweet to Sansa that Jon remembered. 

She looped her pinky with his and she smiled shyly at him. 

“Well, I dreamt about you the other night,” Jon told her. “You were a prince and I was just some poor bastard way below you that you kept smiling at. We were in this huge hall with all these people dancing and I wanted to dance with you. Instead I got to watch you dance with all these other men. Then, you snuck off the dance floor, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the room and into this dark hall.”

He stopped and averted his gaze away. 

“And then what?” she asked softly. She could picture all that he’d just said and found she was rather anxious to hear what happened next. 

He looked down at her. ‘And then you kissed me.” He lay back down on his back and the smile that had blossomed on Sansa’s face fell away. Didn’t he know that would have been the perfect opportunity to kiss her? Didn’t he know how these things worked?

“And the fantasy dream?” she prompted when he didn’t say anything else. 

“I pinky swore for the actual dream. Not the fantasy.”

She sat up and looked down at him. “No, no, we pinky-swore for both.”

“No, we didn’t,” he said with a smirk. “In fact, we didn’t actually say either-or. I picked one and went with it.”

“You took the easy one! It’s easier to tell someone a dream in which they have no control over what happens, but harder to tell someone a fantasy you had of them.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I went with the dream.”

Sansa lunged at him, using her only weapon available: her hands. She straddled him and attempted to tickle him. Jon laughed and managed to grab her wrists in his hands and then rolled her onto her back. 

He grinned down at her. “You know what?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, though she was smiling so it didn’t really pack any kind of punch. “What?”

“My fantasies included you on top of me and me on top of you.”

That stole the breath right out of her. “Oh?” she said breathlessly while thinking – _Duh, Sansa, of course! He’s a man. Of course he’s fantasized about you on top of him and vice versa._

He nodded and his gaze drifted to her lips. 

Well, if he wasn’t going to…

Sansa lifted up and kissed him. Jon moaned and she felt him kiss her back, pressing his lips firmly against hers. He pushed her back onto the blanket and the kiss slowed. Jon pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes glazed over a bit. “Can I do that again?” he asked. 

“You better,” she whispered. 

He smiled and kissed her again. Sansa decided this was, in fact, quite a romantic night under the stars after all.


	30. A Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a conversation I had with a friend regarding a Stark Trek episode. For qinaleil for just being her and being her is awesome.

When Jon saw Sansa for the first time since he’d left for the Night’s Watch, and she’d left for King’s Landing – and since he’d died and been resurrected – he hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught of emotion that overwhelmed him at seeing her again. 

If he hugged her too long and too tightly, no one could really fault him. For all intents and purposes, it was the reunion of a brother and sister. For Sansa, being with Jon meant safety and relief. It meant she could take a minute and breathe. 

For Jon, it was so much more than that. 

He’d lied when he’d told Ser Davos and Melisandre that he saw nothing while dead. He saw something, all right.

He saw a lot of things.

In that moment, which had not been very long at all for everyone else, for him he had lived an entire lifetime. 

He’d been born to loving parents. His name was Kit. He’d grown up not as a bastard, but as a high-born son with all the privileges that meant. Yet he was taught by his parents not to look down on anyone, and to treat people kindly.  
He’d been a big brother to a girl he didn’t know as Jon Snow, but knew as Kit. He called her Emilia. 

Kit was funny. He told jokes and people laughed at them. He was respected; he could speak at great length about many topics, namely political, and people listened to him. They wanted to know what he thought. 

Most of all, and most importantly, he was happy. He’d learned how to fence and ride a horse and to paint. In fact, he painted a lot. Sketched whenever the mood struck him. He’d even done a few commissions. He was becoming something, and his parents encouraged him every step of the way. 

Where everything in Jon’s world had been dark and violent, everything in Kit’s world was bright and peaceful. Kit was confident and happy; he loved his family and he loved his friends. He loved life. 

And he especially loved Sophie. 

Sophie, who was the daughter of one of his father’s friends. Sophie, who had long red hair, beautiful blue eyes, alabaster skin, and a dazzling smile. Sophie was an intelligent, well-read woman who liked to challenge Kit. She was funny, and she sometimes laughed at his jokes. It was Kit’s goal to always make her laugh – namely with him and not at him. 

Sophie was Kit’s everything. He would have done anything for her, and he knew she felt the same about him, though she was a bit quieter about her feelings than he was. Kit could barely keep his hands to himself when it came to Sophie. And as soon as she entered a room, his eyes were on her. 

He would follow her to the ends of the Earth. 

So, it was no big surprise that Kit asked for Sophie’s hand in marriage. And she accepted with the most beautiful smile on her face. 

They were wed quickly – neither one wanted to wait. 

Their wedding night was everything Kit wanted it to be. He made sure to make it so perfect for his lovely wife…whatever she wanted, he would give her. Again and again and again. 

Sophie doted on him as much as he doted on her. She bore him two girls and a son, and she was a wonderful mother. He taught one of his daughter to paint and his other son and daughter how to fence. 

Kit’s life had its ups and downs, but nothing compared to Jon’s. Kit suffered loss, but again, not like Jon. Life was not perfect for Kit, but it was not filled with violence and betrayals. 

Then, one afternoon on an early morning ride out on a mission to sketch the morning sun from his favorite spot on a rocky crag, he’d been tossed from his horse. 

He’d lay there, broken and bleeding, knowing he was going to die. His last words as his breath left him in a rush was Sophie’s name. 

Jon had slammed back into his life in the harshest way possible – his lungs struggling to take in breath. 

It was dark. He was lost. 

He wanted Sophie. 

The time before Sansa arrived at Castle Black was wrought with pain. Horror. And anger. He’d been betrayed by his own men. He’d been killed. He’d died and lived a whole life as someone else and had been so in love and happy… 

So, when he saw Sansa he had wept. _Sophie_. She was _Sophie_. He had been with her in that life, and he wanted to be with her in this one. 

“I am so happy to see you,” Sansa had wept in his arms. “Oh, Jon, it is so sweet to see you once again.”

Jon’s arms tightened around her and he buried his face in her hair. “I am so relieved to see you, Sansa. I feel like…I feel like I’ve been waiting for you.”

She didn’t understand what he meant, but that was fine. One day he would tell her.


	31. Comfort & Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post-reunion drabble

His sister had nightmares. Sansa had them the first night she was at Castle Black. Her screams had roused Jon from his sleep, and he’d gone running down the hall to her bedchamber. Brienne was already there at her door, trying to get Sansa to let her in. Jon all but pushed the knight out of his way. 

“Sansa, it’s Jon,” he said. 

A few seconds later and the door opened. She had tears running down her face, and she’d reached for him just as he was closing the distance between them and gathering her in his arms. 

Brienne shut the door for them, and Jon carried Sansa to bed and laid her down. “Tell me all of it,” he whispered. “Everything. I want to know.”

It all came pouring out of her like a dam that had burst. She told him all that had happened to him at Kings Landing, about Littlefinger, and then, finally, about Ramsay. 

While Jon had before known he would do everything he could to save Rickon and take back Winterfell for them all, this had solidified it. This had given rise to a blood lust inside him he wasn’t entirely comfortable feeling. Fighting and death were what he’d wanted to be free of, but he would see Ramsay’s head on a spike first. 

They made sleepy plans, plans that were loftier in nature due to the late hour and their weariness. Plans that in the light of day they would discard. But it made them both feel better to make them. 

Jon fell asleep beside her on the bed, and in the morning, Sansa didn’t seem to have any shame about the fact that Jon had fallen asleep in her bed. Instead, she thanked him for listening to her and staying with her. 

“When will I hear your story, Jon?” she asked. 

He heaved a sigh. “Later. Not now.”

She nodded, accepting that, and they parted to ready themselves for the day. 

Sansa, Jon learned, was a strategist. When he listened to her planning out where they would go and who they would see, he couldn’t help but be in awe of her and her mind. She must have seen it on his face, for she looked at him and said, “I’ve been through a lot, and I’ve learned plenty. Cersei, Littlefinger, Joffrey, Tyrion – they all gave me lessons. Most of them were harsh, but I stored them all away no matter how unpleasant. Now I get to use them to take back our home.”

To Jon, she was nothing short of amazing.  
That night he told her about his death. He knew she could bear it, and she did. She cried for him and hugged him as though she never meant to let go. “We will make it, Jon, we have to,” she told him. “We’ll both survive because it’s our time now. It has to be. We will rebuild Winterfell and get our family back. You’ll see.”

He wanted to believe her; he really did. It was just that he’d seen how things can turn so quickly out of one's favor. If anyone could make him a believer, though, and if anyone could rally their growing army, it was Sansa. She spoke with authority. She spoke with strength. His sister had grown into a wolf. 

Every hero had their moments, though, and Sansa’s were in the form of her dreams. And so, every night Jon would end up in her bed, holding her hand as they both fell back to sleep. It not only gave her comfort and strength to have him there, but it gave him comfort and strength as well. 

They needed this, this connection. They were both so ravaged by the war and with each plan they made, and with each night they rested together, they rebuilt themselves. 

If anyone took issue with Jon sleeping in Sansa’s bed night after night no one dared to say it. Jon wouldn’t hear them if they did, and he was certain Sansa wouldn’t either. The way Jon figured it, they needed this time. They had to heal and become whole in order to take their home back. 

And if Jon found that his feelings for Sansa were taking a turn onto a path that should not be traveled, he said nothing about them. He gave them no audience in his head. One day he knew he would have no choice but to face them and deal with them because he already knew that they were only going to grow and strengthen. 

But, he told himself, as he grasped Sansa’s hand in his and closed his eyes, not now. Just not now.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twincest prompt from Tumblr.

Sansa and Jon clung to each other, naked, their legs entwined and their hearts beating in unison. They were in Castle Black, in Jon’s room, tangled so close together neither one knew where one ended nor the other began. Sansa’s hair was spread out on the pillow and Jon had one hand at the top her head, playing with hair. The other hand was at her waist. He wasn’t quite gripping her as tightly as when they’d made love, but it was clear he wasn’t letting her go anytime soon. 

Neither one were all too eager to let the other out of their sight now that they had reunited. 

Sansa ran her fingers over what she had learned were stab wounds over the front of his chest. “I felt it,” she whispered. “When you died.”

Jon gripped her fingers. “How?”

She looked up at him. “I felt as though a piece of my soul had split off. I couldn’t stop crying. Ramsay thought it was because of him…” she trailed off, not wanting to revisit her last encounter with her brutal husband. Jon’s hand tightened on her waist. 

“I felt it every time something happened to you,” Jon murmured. “This pain would come out of nowhere and it would take my breath away and I would just know…” He looked at her earnestly. “Never again, Sansa. Never are we to part.”

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “When I learned about Jaime and Cersei Lannister, I was afraid we were just like them and that every time Joffrey tormented me I was being punished for loving you the way that I do.”

“I thought the same thing for a time,” he said. “I let go of that when I came back. This world is hard and cold. It’s violent and bloody. What is wrong with wanting to be with the person you love? What is wrong with taking comfort and happiness where you can find it?”

“Where did you go when you died, Jon? What did you see?”

He looked troubled when he met her gaze straight on. “It was your face I saw before I took my last breath. And then…nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

“It scared me, Sansa. To know for certain there is nothing after this? I don’t want to waste my time being miserable, torturing myself for something I can’t change.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m done denying that I love you. We’re not Jaime and Cersei Lannister destroying a kingdom to be together. We’ve destroyed _ourselves_ trying to right what we thought was wrong. After all we’ve been through, can’t we rest now? Can’t we just be together and figure out the rest as we go?”

“Like taking back Winterfell and saving Rickon?”

Jon nodded. “Yes.” He pushed her back onto the bed and settled himself on top of her, nestling between her thighs. “We’ll be a family again. All of us. And when the time comes, I’ll make you my wife.”

She smiled brightly at him and tangled her fingers in his hair. “I like the sound of that.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a prompt on Tumblr: jon and brienne teach sansa to fight. turns out, she’s a natural.

Jon didn’t know what to make of finding Sansa in the dining hall with Pod and Brienne with a sword in her hand and blocking blows from Pod while Brienne looked on. Once in a while she would give Sansa and/or Pod an instruction. 

Jon stood in the doorway and just watched with a frown. Sansa, whom he’d never thought could wield a sword was actually not that bad. She looked rather fierce, actually. Her cheeks were red, her blue eyes were bright with determination, she had a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her jaw was set.

She looked like a warrior. 

And that worried him. 

He cleared his throat loudly. It was Pod that broke concentration and looked his way, allowing Sansa to strike what would have been a killing blow to his heart. 

Jon wasn’t sure what he felt in that moment. A bit proud, a bit concerned, and a bit…turned on. All served to cause his frown to deepen. 

“Well done, Sansa,” Brienne said with a proud smile. 

Sansa smiled. “Thank you.”

“May I talk with my sister alone, please?” Jon asked. 

Brienne nodded. “Of course. Come alone, Podrick.”

The pair left, Brienne telling Pod that allowing his concentration to break like that was what caused his death blow. 

Sansa grinned at Jon and held up the sword. “Want to spar, Jon?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” she said, but her words held no bite. She was teasing him. She teased him a lot, actually. Much to the surprise of the inhabitants of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow could smile. More than once a month. Or even more than once a week. And it was usually his sister that brought out his smiles and his laughter. 

This time though, he didn’t have anything to smile about. 

“What are you doing?” he asked her. 

She put the sword down on a nearby table. “Sparring with Pod,” she replied. “Just what it looked like I was doing.”

“Why?”

She looked at him incredulously. “Did you forget about the battle we’re going into to get Winterfell back and rescue Rickon?”

“I didn’t forget, no. Hard to forget when we’ve been planning and preparing for it.”

“Then why do you ask me what it is I’m doing?”

“Because you’re not going to fight,” he said bluntly. “You’ll be in a tent far away from the battle while I lead the men into Winterfell to face Ramsay.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, I will not be in a tent waiting and worrying and sending you alone into battle. I will be with you.”

“This was not discussed before.”

“I thought it was assumed.”

“It wasn’t,” he said and moved closer to her. “Sansa, I don’t want you out there fighting.”

“I know I haven’t sparred with you and Robb, or learned how to like Arya did, but Brienne says I am doing well—”

“I do not care if you are the best swordsman – er, woman – this side of the Wall. You’re not fighting.”

“Yes,” she said, with steel in her voice, “I am.”

While previously Sansa’s determination and will had caused Jon to bend, in this he would not. He pointed at her, his temper flaring, “Sansa, I don’t care if I have to tie you up to get you to stay put. You’re. Not. Fighting.”

Her eyes narrowed, her blue eyes turning to ice. She stepped closer to him until they were toe-to-toe. “Yes. I. Am.”

“So I can be distracted worrying about you?” he shouted. “So I lose my head because I’m too worried you’re about to lose yours? No, Sansa!”

Some of the fight seemed to leave her, and her expression softened as she put a hand on his arm. “Jon, please, I can’t just sit in a tent somewhere and worry that something is going to happen to you. I just got you back; I can’t lose you again.”

Those words held even more meaning after he’d told her about his death and then subsequent resurrection. He knew Sansa worried over him, and that she even felt guilty for dragging him into this battle. There had been a rather large part of him that had been resistant to the idea of storming Winterfell until that letter from Ramsay. Until the news of Rickon. He’d still wished and wanted another way to get both, but there really wasn’t any other way. 

He wanted this nightmare to end. He wanted his family safe and he wanted to at some point put down his sword. Jon was hoping that after this battle, he would be able to for a while. When he thought of the fight, he didn’t allow himself to dwell on the fact that he could die again. He instead imagined rebuilding Winterfell with Sansa and Rickon. He imagined Sansa being her bossy self and him bending to her will as he seemed to do often. 

But now she wanted to battle with him. Just the thought of it filled him with a dread he could not bear. “I can’t, Sansa,” he said, his voice cracking with the fear he felt. “I can’t risk losing you.”

“Because Father’s ghost would come back and kill you?” she said, only half-teasing this time. 

“No, because of me,” he said fiercely and reached down to grip her hand. “Because of what I can’t handle. I could not handle losing you.”

“You won’t. I promise,” she said, her eyes turned earnest as she looked at him pleadingly. 

“I said no. I won’t bend in this.”

She sighed and nodded. “Are you hungry, Jon? I find I am quite famished.”

He regarded her warily; he wasn’t fool enough to think she’d given up. He had a feeling they’d have this talk again, and next time he was certain she’d have a well thought out argument as to why she needed to be in battle with him. Knowing Sansa, it would be an argument designed to make him seem an idiot to refuse her too. Well, that was fine. Only an idiot would let the one person he didn’t know he needed more than anything before risk her life. He’d just have to be sure to come up with a counter-argument that was as well thought out as hers would be. That was another thing about this new Sansa. She was several steps ahead of him, of everyone. She certainly kept him on his toes, and damn it all if he didn’t like that.


	34. Cookies & Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> • who can sell the most cookies contest au  
> So, when I read this prompt on an AU prompt list on my dash, I saw “eat” instead of “sell” and I got this imagine in my head. I decided to share. So, I give you:  
> • who can EAT the most cookies contest au

• who can sell the most cookies contest au  
So, when I read this prompt on an AU prompt list on my dash, I saw “eat” instead of “sell” and I got this imagine in my head. I decided to share. So, I give you:  
• who can EAT the most cookies contest au

Sansa and Jon glared at each other as Arya brought out all the cookies the Starks had in their kitchen. There were a lot, and Sansa wondered briefly just how many cookies Arya thought one could consume in a minute. 

Oh, God. HOW MANY WAS SHE GOING TO CONSUME IN A MINUTE?! 

It was Jon’s fault. Everything was Jon’s fault. That was Sansa’s motto when he was the scrawny next door neighbor that would steal Robb away from playing He-Man and She-Ra with her, and it was now when he was all built and buff and she couldn’t look at him without blushing. 

He’d off the cuff mentioned that one time he and Robb had gotten into a hot dog eating contest when they were seventeen and how Robb had puked after. 

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Sansa had scoffed. “Hot dogs are gross.”

“That’s _not_ what she said,” Theon chimed in. Everyone groaned. 

“I don’t think it was the hot dogs,” Jon said. “It was how many he _ate_ in five minutes.”

“Maybe if it was something good like cookies instead,” Sansa said, ignoring him. “And instead of five minutes, it was just one minute.”

Jon had narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and then said, “Care to make it interesting then?”

So, yeah. His fault. Sort of. Her gaze dropped to his kissable mouth. Nope. All his fault. 

Now here they were, two small plastic tables cleared and facing one another, with a tray of cookies overflowing on each. They each had a glass of milk, too. 

“You guys ready?” Arya, her little sister, asked and held up her wrist to tap her watch. 

Sansa glared extra hard at Jon. “Ready.”

He nodded curtly. “Ready.”

“On your marks…get set…GO!”

After cramming in cookies two and three, Sansa thought that it would be really great if humans came with a Hoover-like ability. Granted, she kind of felt like a Hoover at that moment. She didn’t bother to look at Jon, that would break her concentration. And while she wanted to take a drink of her milk and wash down the remaining bits of cookie in her mouth, she didn’t dare. That would just slow things down. But this chewing thing? It had to go. 

She groaned when she realized the Chips Ahoy! were now done and she had Oreos left. Those would be harder because they were a bit fatter and then there was the cream in the middle to contend with. 

It was amazing the things one thought of when engaged in a slapdash minute-to-win-it cookie eating contest. 

“Time!” Arya called. 

Sansa swallowed the remaining cookies in her mouth and grabbed the milk. She glanced over at Jon and found him doing the same. He also looked a little…green. 

Before Arya could even ask how many cookies they’d consumed, Jon bolted up and ran into the house. Presumably to puke. 

Well…maybe it wasn’t the hot dogs then. Maybe he was right that it was the number of them. 

“How many did you eat, Sansa?” Arya asked. 

“Ten,” Sansa replied softly. 

Jon came back out, shoving a piece of gum in his mouth. 

“How many did you eat, Jon?” Arya asked him. 

He sighed and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Eleven.”

“Dammit!” Sansa exclaimed and pounded her fist on the table. 

“Calm down, killer,” Robb said. 

“So, what do you get again as the winner?” Arya asked. 

“I don’t think they ever made an actual wager,” Theon said. 

Sansa sighed and looked at Jon dejectedly. “What do you want, Cookie Monster?”

He grinned and laughed a little. “I want a date.”

“With who?” Sansa asked, dumbfounded. Christ, now she had to find someone to set him up with? What the shit was that about?

He looked at her incredulously. “With you.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking. And then it settled in her mind exactly what he’d said. He wanted to take her out on a date! “ _Oh_.” She smiled. “Okay.”

Robb cleared his throat. They both ignored him. 

Sansa nodded to Jon. “So, eleven cookies and you puke, huh? I had ten and I’m fine.”

He grimaced and rubbed his belly. “Honestly? I think it was the hot dog I had earlier. It’s been sitting in my stomach like lead since I ate it.”

So, a victory for him and a victory for her. Two victories for her if one counted that she got a date with the pain-in-the-ass out of it. And she did, she definitely did.


	35. Tomorrow

Sansa crept down to the spare room when she was sure that everyone was asleep. She was worried about what she’d said earlier. Robb had been watching them interact at the Stark family reunion and had approached them at one point and asked point-blank if something was going on between them. 

Jon had opened his mouth to answer, and in her fear that he would confirm that something was, Sansa had said quickly, “Of course not. Geez, Robb, Jon is like a brother to me.”

Jon had excused himself to go talk to Arya at that point, and he’d avoided her for the rest of the day. 

They’d talked about going public with their relationship a few times, but Sansa had thought they’d agreed to keep it quiet a little longer. She didn’t want to have to make her and Jon’s business, everyone else’s business. 

But, apparently, she had decided that and Jon had not. 

When she got to his door she scratched at the wood. Just when she thought he might be asleep, or done with her instead, he opened the door. He looked relieved. He stepped aside and practically yanked her into the room. 

“I’m sorry I ignored you all day after Robb asked you if we were together,” he said. “I was being ridiculous.”

Sansa frowned. “But did it upset you? What I said? Don’t tell me what I want to hear, Jon. Tell me what you think. What you feel.”

He sighed and ambled over to the bed. He sat down and looked up at her, his hands in his lap. “The truth?” She nodded. “I want to tell them,” he said. “I feel like you’re my dirty secret, and that I’m yours, and that’s not what I want. I want to make us legit.”

Sansa nodded, and came over to sit beside him. “Then we’ll tell them.”

He looked stunned and relieved at the same time. Sansa cocked her head to the side. “What is it? You looked really worried there for a minute. Did you think I’d say no?”

He nodded and rubbed his palms on his lounge pants. “Yeah, I did. I thought maybe you did want to keep me a secret and this would end it.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked. 

He heaved a deep breath, as though bracing himself. Or gathering courage. Possibly both. “Because you’ve never said it, Sansa,” he said. “I say it all the time.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Say what?”

“I love you, Sansa. I tell you I love you all the time. You’ve never said it back.”

“I haven’t?”

He shook his head. 

Biting her lip, Sansa turned to face him. “I do though. I do love you, Jon. I don’t know why I never said it aloud. I think it all the time and—”

He cut her off with a kiss. A passionate and desperate kiss. “I love you,” he rasped. “So we’ll tell them?”

She nodded and then scooted back onto the bed, laid down, and held out her arms to him. “Tomorrow?”

He nodded and grinned as he crawled over to her and covered her body with his. “Tomorrow.”


	36. The Adventures of Sex Goddess & Man Bun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I was looking up some books on goodreads to put on my “to be read” shelf, and came across this book called “Smut” by Katrina Halle. It was about this guy and girl who team up to write a story for a class, realize they write well together, and then write a book together. However, they drive each other nuts. Because I’m obsessed with Jon and Sansa, I stole the idea and decided to write my own little ditty.

“You need to put a comma there,” Jon said as he pointed at Sansa’s laptop screen. She had a Word doc up, and currently they were trying to finish the chapter they’d started three hours ago. 

“Why do you do that? You always do that,” Sansa snipped. 

He retracted his arm and rolled his eyes. “What did I do now?”

“You point at the place you want me to do something and then I can’t see it!”

Jon sighed, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Do you want me to type for a while and you can take a break?”

“I don’t know, do I want this chapter written today or tomorrow?” she asked sarcastically. 

“I can type!”

“No, you can’t. You type with two hands, but without knowing where the keys are and without being able to look at the screen while you’re typing.”

“Well, you’re just soooo much better than I am, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Jon sighed, trying to reign in his temper. It never failed that when he and Sansa got together, they would bicker. He’d dubbed her Little Miss Perfect, because that’s what she was from how she was always perfectly coiffed from top to bottom – never a strand of her long auburn hair out of place, never red toenail chipped – to how she had everything at perfectly straight and even and neat on her desk. 

It was due to Sansa’s neatness that she insisted they work at her place. She could not, she’d told him, take his “clutter”. Clutter to Sansa meant a stray paper clip on the desk, but whatever. 

They were an unlikely pair to be co-writing a book together, but that was the fault of their writing instructor at Winterfell University where they were both getting their MFA in Creative Writing. They’d been paired up for a project earlier that semester and discovered that they wrote well together, even if they couldn’t go two seconds without disagreeing on something. 

Both of them, eager to get their careers started and aware that a lot of their peers already had their Great American Novel half-written, decided why not continue the magic and see if they could write a whole book together? 

Sansa had suggested a love-story, because that was Sansa – the Perpetual Believer in Happy Endings and Romance. Jon had wanted to do something involving spies, a Bond-type character. After an argument in which Sansa called him a “sexist pig”, they both agreed to compromise. The Bond-type character would be a woman, and there would be romance. 

They were fairly far along now, yet there was just one problem. And the argument over the comma was just a stalling tactic for both of them. 

It was time to write the sex scene.

Jon was rather nervous about it, though he wasn’t sure why. No, wait, he did know why. Because he feared that anything he suggested would make Sansa snicker and ask if those were the moves he put on women. 

He didn’t want to talk about his “moves” with Sansa. He wasn’t even sure he had any. 

Now, he folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her red head. She was sitting up straight, as she always did (he slouched), and she had her fingers poised on the keyboard. She tilted her head to look up at him, and he lost himself for a brief moment in the blue of her eyes. Feeling his face begin to redden a bit, he looked away from her and agitatedly rubbed the back of his neck. 

She drove him fucking nuts, but she was gorgeous and brilliant, and his body reacted to her even when his mind was thinking “Prissy Bitch.” Okay, so he had two nicknames for her. She didn’t know about either of them. 

She sighed (and just what did that sigh mean?), and then looked back at the screen and began to type. When she was done, Jon peered closer to the screen, leaning over her and ignoring how she leaned to the side as though his proximity was a nuisance to her. 

Actually, he knew it was. She’d told him more than once while drawing an imaginary circle around herself, “This is my dance space,” and then she’d draw one around him, “That’s yours.”

He just encroached into her space because it annoyed her. 

And because he really liked the scent of whatever fruity perfume she used. 

“ _Kit kissed Sophie hungrily, sliding his hand over her ass and pressing the cradle of her thighs against his straining erection_ ,” he read. 

His mouth went dry. Christ. He nodded. “May I add something now?”

She put her hands back on the keyboard and waited for him to say something. 

“No, I want to type it,” he said. 

“Have at it, Man Bun,” she said and rolled her chair to the side, giving him plenty of room to step up to the desk and bend over to type. He shot her a glare before he did so quickly, though yes, not as quickly as she would have, and then stepped away. 

Sansa rolled back and peered at the screen. “ _Kit lifted Sophie up onto his kitchen table behind her, and stepped between her spread legs. He began to unbutton her top as he continued to kiss her_.”

Jon swore her voice wobbled a bit towards the end. He wondered if she was blushing as furiously as he was right now, but he couldn’t see her because she wouldn’t look at him. She cleared her throat. “She’s not wearing a button down top,” she said. “She’s wearing a tank top.”

That’s right. Because Sophie had been down on the beach prior to this scene, walking Kit’s dog. 

Sansa was the one wearing the button down top. Sleeveless. Every once in a while he could see her bra strap when she moved just so. 

“Oh, uh, I must have forgotten,” he muttered and absently tugged on the previously mentioned “man bun”. But she _was_ the one who told him to pull his hair back so it wasn’t always getting in his face. 

She typed quickly, no doubt fixing his mistake, and then kept going for a while. She rolled away again and Jon bent over to look. “ _He lifted the tank top up by the hem and Sophie helped him rid herself of it. Kit then undid the snap of her bra and pulled it off her. He stared down at her breasts, milky white and pink-tipped, and then took one in his mouth and suckled from it_ ,” he read aloud. 

Fucking hell, he was getting hard. Did women get turned on like this when they read this stuff? He turned his head towards Sansa and noticed a bit of smugness in her expression. Also, a bit of heat in her eyes. 

And a challenge. 

Jon rose, quite literally to that, and typed. His hands shook a bit so it took him longer than usual, and he had to keep deleting an extra letter here and there. Then he stepped away, making sure he hid the fact that this was doing something to him. 

When she read what he wrote aloud, Jon had to stifle a moan. 

“ _Sophie undid the snap of Kit’s jeans and then drew down the zipper. She pushed them down his hips and his cock sprang free. She wrapped her hand around him and looked at him heatedly, her blue eyes boring into him. When she brushed her thumb across the tip, gathering up the precum that leaked there, Kit moaned and watched her with darkening eyes as she licked her thumb._ ”

“Sophie has brown eyes,” Sansa murmured. 

Right again. 

Jon turned, taking a chance she would see what this was doing to him. 

Taking a chance that she would see he wanted her right then and there.

“Do you think he should carry her up to bed or fuck her right there?” Sansa asked softly. 

“What do you think?” he rasped. 

“I think he should fuck me right here.”

His heart tripped over itself. “Fuck _you_?”

She looked up at him and there was no mistake the desire written all over her face. “I think you should fuck me right here and now.”

Jon wasted no time in yanking her out of the chair and into his arms. “I never thought you’d ask.”

“Technically, I didn’t. I—”

“Sansa, shut up and kiss me.”

She broke into a smile and did just that. Jon tangled his hands in her hair as he kissed finally feeling the silky strands between his fingers. 

“God, I want to eat you up,” he muttered. 

“I’ll let you,” she breathed and bit down on his bottom lip gently. 

Jon went wild, lifting her onto the desk behind her. His hands went to her button down and they reenacted the last few things they’d written in detail. When Jon’s cock was freed though, Sansa said, “We definitely need to make sure Kit is well endowed. Holy shit, Jon, is that going to fit inside me?”

“Yes,” he said quickly and she laughed. It sounded like pure joy. She _looked_ like pure joy. 

“Do you have any fucking clue how gorgeous you are?” he asked her as he worked his hand under her skirt. “And how much I want you?”

She moaned when he managed to push her panties aside and slip a finger across her clit. She put her hand at the back of his head and drew him in for a kiss. But, before she did kiss him, she said, “You’ve been driving me crazy, Snow.”

“Ditto,” he muttered. 

Their mouths crashed together, and their tongues came out to taste. 

Then Sansa pushed at him and Jon stepped back, dazed, hard, and hoping like fuck she wasn’t stopping this. She slipped off the desk, keeping her eyes on his and pulled her panties down. She dropped them on the floor and smirked. “Just so you know, I’m on the pill.” Then she turned so her back was to him, and flipped the back of her skirt up. She looked over her shoulder at him with her hands flat on the desk. “Fuck me, Jon.”

Jon didn’t even bother to take his jeans and boxers off. He just pushed them further down on this thighs, stepped up behind her and teased her folds with the tip of his cock. She moaned and pushed back at him, and then Jon pushed forward, burying himself inside her slowly, making sure he didn’t hurt her. 

“Oh, fuck!” Sansa shouted when he was fully seated inside her. “I’m already addicted to your cock.”

Jon pulled his cock out slowly, and then when just the tip was inside her, he slammed back inside. “I’m already addicted to your pussy,” he said and then groaned. “Fuck, Sansa, you’re so hot and wet.”

Sansa bent over the desk, stretching her arms out to grip the edge of the desk. “Fuck me, Jon, please.”

Jon fucked her hard and fast to start, and then when she was just on the brink of cumming, he slowed and held himself inside her until she was practically sobbing for him to continue. She begged him to let her cum and he didn’t disappoint. He bent over her, his lips pressing kisses against her shoulders as he slipped a hand to her cunt and worked her clit 

“Come for me, sweet girl,” he muttered in her ear. “Come all over my cock. Soak it with your cum.”

She screamed. Sansa Stark was a screamer. Fuck, he loved it! 

Her pussy was like a pulsing vice on his cock, and he let out a shout as he held himself inside her and came so hard he saw spots. 

“Am I crushing you?” he asked when he could find speech again. 

She shook her head. “No.” She sounded wrung out and yet quite happy. 

Jon lifted himself off of her and then pulled out, his eyes shutting at the feel of it. He helped Sansa up and then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “We’re going to do that again, yeah?”

Her arms wound around his neck and she nodded adamantly. “Oh, yes.”

He grinned. “Good.”

“In fact, I think we should finish writing that scene upstairs in my bed,” she said. “And then we can find out how quickly recovery takes for you. You know, for research for the book and all.”

“I think recovery might go a lot quicker if I can put my mouth on you.”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, I would like that very much.” She pulled away from him. “Um, can you get the laptop? I don’t think I can carry anything right now.”

Jon grinned, feeling rather proud of himself for unraveling his Sex Goddess. 

_Well, look at that_ , he thought. _Another new nickname._


	37. Tiptoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @delusionandfaith on Tumblr. Her prompt was: Arya has had enough of Jon and Sansa tiptoeing around each other: "Can you guys cut it out and just fuck each other already?"

Jon Snow had been joining the Starks on their family vacations for as long as Arya could remember. He lived next door to them in Winterfell, and since he and Robb had become best friends at the age of five (before Arya was even born!), Jon had become a fixture in their lives. 

Not that Arya minded. While Bran and Rickon were too young to tool around with, and Sansa, her older sister, was too prissy to do anything fun with, that left Robb and Jon for Arya to learn things from. Not that they wanted her around much considering they were five years apart. 

Yet that didn't stop Arya from trying. In fact, Arya had learned at the age of twelve how to change the oil in a car thanks to Jon. She’d also learned how to punch from him, too. Needless to say, she loved Jon like he was part of the family, and really, at this point, he was. 

So, yeah, it made sense that he would join them for family vacations. It was just what he did. Even at the age of twenty, when he and Robb and now Sansa were considered adults. Still, it was tradition and the Starks were nothing if not traditional.

Every summer they rented the same house and spent a week by the beach. The beach itself was within walking distance and they all had free reign to come and go as they wanted, though she, Bran, and Rickon had a bit of a tighter leash, being the youngest and all. 

They all took the same rooms at the beach house too, though this year Arya took note that Jon took the bedroom next to Sansa’s, which was the room Robb usually took. 

She had started noticing other things too. 

Such as how Jon would sneak glances at Sansa when he thought no one was looking, and she did the same to him. Then there was the high-pitched giggle Sansa emitted when Jon made one of his lame jokes, and how he would look at her when he made them, clearly wanting her to hear them. 

In the past, Sansa would meet up with the friends she’d made years ago at the beach and spend all day with them. This year, she invited them along to whatever Jon and Robb were doing. Robb, Arya noted, had seemed to develop a bit of a crush on one of the girls. This left Jon and Sansa time to chat and often they would end up in the back of the big group together. 

Also, there were nights when Jon and Sansa would end up either outside on the porch together just talking, or watching TV in the den together. 

And despite all this talking they did, they still seemed somehow nervous around one another. 

It was clear to Arya that they had big ol’ crushes on each other, and she wondered if either of them had figured it out yet. Did Sansa sit around in her bedroom at night, giving her hair one hundred strokes with her brush, and wonder if Jon had feelings for her? And did Jon, sitting up in bed at night with some copy of some well-worn Kerouac book wonder if Sansa had feelings for him?

Watching them, it was clear that yes, they did. 

Arya wasn’t sure when it had started to happen, this new development between them, considering they had never paid much attention to each other before. But even as she thought that she was reminded of how Sansa would apply gloss and primp her hair when she knew Jon was coming over. And how Jon would get extra clumsy when Sansa came in the room. 

Was it possible that this had been going on for a lot longer than Arya had been aware of it? 

She remembered then how Jon had helped Robb beat up Joffrey Lannister when he’d hit Sansa once across the face. Joffrey never went near her again. And, Arya remembered how Sansa had badmouthed the girl Jon started to date his senior year for weeks on end. Come to think of it, that girl had had red hair just like Sansa too…

Geez. She wondered if Robb knew. Probably not. Robb could be pretty oblivious, plus he now had his own thinking going on with Sansa’s friend Jeyne. Plus, knowing Jon and all his nobleness and honor, he was probably afraid to do anything with Sansa for fear of how Ned and Robb would react to it. 

And Sansa was no doubt probably hoping Jon would make a move. How she didn’t know that waiting for Jon to make a move would be like waiting for George R.R. Martin to finish writing the next book in the A Song of Ice and Fire series: would it _ever_ happen?

So, now, here Arya was, standing in the doorway of the deck, watching Jon and Sansa discuss who would have the last piece of pie for dessert. 

“You take it, Jon,” Sansa said. “You had a small slice earlier and mine was rather big.”

“No, no, you take it. You barely ate anything all day.”

“No, I insist—”

“No, I do—”

It was then that Arya exploded. She marched over and grabbed the piece of pie, thereby ending who was going to get it, and snapped, “Would you two just be honest about how you feel for each other and do something about it? Maybe, I don’t know, fuck or something so that all this weird awkwardness will go away and we can carry on with our lives?”

Then she marched into the house and grabbed a fork in the kitchen to eat the slice with. 

Later that night, when she came downstairs to get a drink of water, she heard moaning and whispers coming from the porch and when she looked out the kitchen window she found Jon and Sansa together, locked in an embrace. Their lips were fused together and Jon had his hand up Sansa’s shirt. 

Arya rolled her eyes. They could at least get a room. In fact, there were two available ones up the stairs. Then she frowned when she heard Sansa moan. 

Then again, perhaps it was best they tiptoes around the family and kept that shit outside. At least they were now done tiptoeing around each other.


	38. Beggar

"Jon! Jon! Stop!

Jon let his sword drop to his side and nodded to the knight he'd been sparring with to see what it was that Sam was shouting about. 

The knight looked relieved. And quite red in the face. He also had some blood coming from his shoulder and cheek...

Jon took a step toward, not having realized how much harm he'd done when Sam came up and said to the knight, "Go. I'll patch you up."

Jon frowned as the knight all but ran away. He looked at Sam. "I didn't even realize I'd done that."

Sam heaved a deep sigh. "No, I imagine you wouldn't have."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you've been in an awful mood for weeks now. You're overly aggressive when you spar, you've been snapping at everyone--"

"I have not," Jon snapped. Sam looked at him pointedly. "All right, all right."

"What is it? You and Sansa have a fight?"

Jon sighed and shook his head. "No, we're fine."

"Then what is it?"

"I've barely seen her! She's been so busy preparing for Dany's visit next week, and visiting all the children and their families to make sure they have all they need, I've not had any time with my wife. She's asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow and I..." He looked down at the ground, kicked some dirt with his boot. "I miss her."

Sam looked at his friend in understanding. "I'm very sorry for that," he said. "And I get it. I am the same way when I do not get to spend much time with Gilly."

"I feel like a beggar at this point," Jon said. "I feel like I have to be one to get her atten..." he trailed off, his eyes glinting with the spark of an idea. 

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, feeling as though he should stop his friend from doing something rash and stupid. 

Jon grinned. "I'm going to become a beggar." And then he ran off leaving Sam bewildered. 

xxxxxxxxx

Sansa wondered if she had a headache coming on. She'd had a busy morning, tending to the preparations for Daenerys to visit, and seeing to her people. She'd been busy for the past few weeks, and it was wearing thin. She could barely sit through dinner without falling asleep at the table, and Jon...she missed Jon. She could tell he missed her too. He looked at her longingly every time they had a few minutes alone before one or both of them were pulled away. 

"Your Grace, a...man would like to see you," one of her servants said as Sansa pulled linens out of a trunk that had been found in one of the rooms long forgotten in the castle. 

Sansa looked up and stared at the girl. "A man? What man?"

"I do not know his name." The girl was turning red. 

Sansa frowned. "He didn't give a name?"

"No."

"You didn't ask?"

"He just told me he'd like to see you."

Sansa dropped the linens in her hand and went to stand behind the table where she and Jon often saw their people. "Oh, bother," she muttered. "Send him in."

The servant left, and a minute later in walked a man, though she could not see his face. The tattered black cloak he wore hid his face. He shuffled forward and then stopped and dropped to his knees. "I beg of thee, Your Grace," he rasped. "I beg of thee!"

Sansa's eyes narrowed. He sounded awfully familiar... "Jon? Is that you?"

The man didn't answer. Sansa pursed her lips together and walked back round the table and stopped before him, her hands clasped in front of her. "Pull off the hood, please," she commanded. 

He did. It was Jon. He looked up at her, gray eyes gleaming, and a bit of a smirk playing on his lips. 

"Jon, what in the name of the Seven are you doing?" Sansa asked in exasperation. "I've no time--"

"Yes, exactly," he said. "You've no time. Not for me anyway. For everyone else you do. But not for your husband. Remember me? The man who loves you? Who would do anything for you?"

Sansa softened, her arms falling to her sides. Hadn't she just been thinking how much she missed him? "Jon," she sighed sadly. 

He gazed up at her, looking at her in a mixture of lust and tenderness. "Have pity of me, Your Grace. Your King misses his Queen. I'm afraid I might end up accidentally maiming your army if I have to go on much longer without you."

Sansa dropped to her knees in front of him, the padding of her skirts protecting her knees from the cold, hard stone. She reached out and flicked a stray curl from his face. "I miss you too," she said. 

It was hard to say who lunged first, but lunging was involved. The both of them clung to each other, arms wrapped tight around one another, and lips colliding in hungry kisses. 

It was definitely Jon though, who pushed her to the floor, his hand behind her head so she didn't crack it. He was the one that pushed up her skirts and tore away her small clothes, and it was Sansa who undid the laces of his breeches. 

He was inside her and fucking her into the floor within seconds. Mere seconds after that, they were both screaming out their climaxes. 

Jon slumped against her, panting, and Sansa laughed as she carded her fingers through his hair. 

"Why're you laughing?" Jon mumbled into her neck. 

"You, dressed like a beggar."

He lifted his head and grinned at her. "It was the only thing I could think of to get your attention."

"Well, you have it, my King," she cooed. "And, I think, you shall have it for the rest of the day if you'd like."

"Well, we don't need to go that far," he said and she slapped his arm. He laughed and heaved himself off of her. He did up his breeches and then held out his hand to her. 

Sansa looked at him pointedly while she picked up her tattered small clothes. He shrugged, clearly not sorry. She took his hand, and allowed him to pull her up. He caught her in his arms and kissed her. "To bed, my darling?" he asked. 

She smiled. "To bed. I have something I'd like to beg my King for..."


	39. Endings & Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For abi117 on tumblr who asked for a jon and sansa reunion after the battle of the white walkers.

When Jon returned to her, tired and worn, with a few more aches and pains, Sansa took care of him. She was so happy and so relieved to him alive, that tears fell silently down her cheeks while she bathed him, washing away the dirt and grime, and the dried blood that bathing in the streams along his path home had not been able to wash away. 

He begged her not to cry even as he looked near tears himself. She knew he'd lost men out there. Like Tormund and Davos and, tragically, his aunt Daenerys. 

He told her little, too exhausted and battle-worn to speak, and as they curled up in their bed that night, Jon held her close as he drifted off. Sansa lay watching him for a long time before sleep claimed her. 

When Sansa awoke in the morning, her husband was watching her, a soft smile on his face. "Good morning," he said, his voice raspy from the last dregs of sleep. 

She smiled. "Good morning. How do you feel? Do you need anything?"

He shook his head and pulled her in close. "Just you. I just need you."

Sansa burrowed into him and they clung to each other. She was reminded of a similar time they had clung to each other like this. It was when Jon had learned of his true parentage and that they were not damned to the Seven Hells for loving each other as they did, because they were not siblings, but cousins. Yet there had been grief in that embrace as well as Jon came to terms with all he had lost and didn't know. Sansa had taken care of him then too, just as he took care of her after she'd returned to him and after they'd finally put an end to Littlefinger's machinations. 

The story of the final battle between the White Walkers came tumbling out piece by piece. It had been a hard battle, and though she knew that Daenerys, Davos, and Tormund didn’t make it, he told her how they had perished while tears tracked down his face. 

“I was offered the Throne after,” he told her. “I refused it. Instead, I had it melted down. Tyrion didn’t stop me.”

“We shall all rule ourselves then?” Sansa asked softly. 

“Aye. That throne has caused more trouble…”

“And how is Tyrion?”

“Unwell. He loved Dany, you know.”

Sansa nodded. “I know.”

“He’ll rule King’s Landing just as you and I rule the North. Gendry plans to stay with him and, I think, be part of his counsel. Arya is staying there I think for a while with him.”

“Oh?”

Jon’s smile was lopsided. “She’s in love.”

Sansa wiped away the tears that had fallen and were now drying on his cheeks. “There are some things to be happy about in the midst of all this loss. Cersei is dead, Jamie and Brienne are in Casterly Rock living as man and wife, Bran has no plans to leave any time soon, and…” she took his hand and placed it over her belly. “We’ll have new life.”

Jon’s mouth went slack, and his eyes widened. “Sansa, you’re—?”

She nodded. “Sam confirmed while you were away. I’m pregnant.”

Jon gathered her up in his arms, holding her tight, and then loosened his grip and apologized profusely for having crushed her. Sansa laughed and kissed him. “You have not crushed me, my love.”

Jon ran his fingers along the side of her face and gazed at her reverently. “Sansa, I… Gods…you got me through this battle. All I kept thinking was how I needed to finish it so I could get home to you, so I could make this world safer for you…” He placed a hand over her belly. “And any little ones we had.”

“You have, though not without cost to you. I am sorry for the loss of your aunt, Jon.”

“I lost family, it’s true, but now we’ll be building one of our own.”

He yawned and then looked at her sheepishly. “I suppose I’m still knackered.”

“Sleep then, my love, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jon smiled sleepily and burrowed into her, nuzzling into her neck. “You better be.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this pic:
> 
> [](http://s1132.photobucket.com/user/Janina44/media/tumblr_inline_ofpx0ylUYv1r9w8vx_540_zpspyqqetdy.jpg.html)

He was going crazy. Ever since Sansa had shown up to his aunt's wedding reception in that fucking dress, the straps of which kept falling down, Jon's palms had been itching to touch her. Their relationship was still new, well, it was to her family and his anyway, but not to them - they'd been seeing each other for months before telling everyone they were serious. They'd both just wanted something for them and them alone before their respective families started butting their noses in. 

Jon was glad they'd had some time to themselves, because after they told their families, not one of them could leave them the fuck alone. Between Robb's threats, Arya's dark glares, Dany's teasing - which rivaled Rickon's (and she was older so that was saying something), and Ned and Cat giving Sansa a talk about how she was to "finish school before getting too serious" and Jon's father telling him to make sure to "wrap it up", it was just too much. 

Jon just wanted time alone with his girl. And he wanted it now because he was fucking hard as a rock, and had been since she'd arrived. There was only one thing to do then. Hunt her down, drag her away, and fuck her senseless. 

Except Sansa Stark could be hell to find in a scene like this. Such a social butterfly, that one. She had the natural ability to blend into whatever factions had developed during a gathering and slip right in as though she was one of them. Everyone loved her. 

He loved her. 

So, when he finally found her, dancing with Margaery Tyrell and looking a bit buzzed, Jon didn't think twice about snagging her about the waist and pulling her in against his chest. "I want you," he growled. "Now."

Her luminous blue eyes went wide. "What's wrong?"

"I want to fuck your brains out, Sansa, that's what's wrong. I've been hard since you got here and I haven't had five minutes with you."

She bit her lip, making it go red when she released it from her teeth, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Where do you propose we go then?"

"Follow me," he said. 

He stepped out of her arms and grabbed her hand. He pulled her with him through the crowd and down the hallway where the bathrooms at the country club were located. He kept going past them, and then turned left and ended up down another hallway. The pulse of the music was felt more than heard here, and it was dark. 

Jon pushed her against the wall and crashed his mouth down onto hers. "Sansa, fuck, this dress," he muttered against her lips. 

"I had a feeling you would like it," she giggled as her hands went to the snap of his pants. "We better make this quick. I heard Dany tell Marg she was getting ready for the cake."

Jon pushed her dress up and then groaned when he felt her bare pussy under his questing hand. "You're trying to kill me."

"Slowly. Well well well, you weren't kidding. You are hard!"

She shoved his boxers and pants down and swiped the head of his dick with her thumb. He grunted and licked his finger before sliding it inside her. Her head fell back and she moaned. "Jon," she gasped. 

"I can't wait," he said. 

"Don't. I'm ready."

"Fuck, yes you are," Jon hissed. 

Moving her hand out of the way, Jon took his cock in hand and bent at the knees just a touch. Sansa guided him inside, and when he was there, inside the velvet walls of her tight pussy, he groaned and held himself still for a minute. 

And then he fucked her the way he'd been wanting to all night. It was hard and fast. It was raw animal fucking. Her pants and moans in his ear drove him crazy, and after rubbing his thumb on her clit to make sure she got off first, Jon let himself go, pounding her into the wall and then unloading inside her. 

It was hot. It was heady. He felt like he was going to pass the fuck out. Alcohol, the heat, and sex with Sansa - he was going to sleep well tonight. Hopefully with her right next to him. 

"I want to do that more often," Sansa breathed. "Can we?"

"Yes," Jon said, pretty certain he'd agree to anything at that moment. 

Quickly, they righted their clothing, and then Jon pulled her with him back to the reception. He kept her close this time, his hand at the small of her back. 

The photographer that had been trolling everyone that night, came up to them and asked for a photo. Jon pulled Sansa in close, and she giggled before making a pouty face for the camera. 

Later, when Dany got the photos, she gave Jon and Sansa a copy of that particular one, in private, at a family gathering. Both Jon and Sansa studied it, laughing quietly to one another over the Stark kitchen counter. 

They didn't hear Arya come in and come up behind them until she said, "Jesus, you two looked like you fucked up against the wall in the bathroom!"

Both of them looked over at her. 

"It wasn't in the bathroom," Sansa chirped. 

Arya looked disgusted and walked away shouting, "Robb!"

Jon laughed as he placed the photo down on the counter and drew Sansa in his arms. "Where can we go where Robb won't find us?"

"Your place?"

Jon grinned. "Let's go."


	41. MIssed You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Batman Jon and Wonder Woman Sansa AU based on this graphic by melodymaysecret: http://melodymaysecret.tumblr.com/post/149187988231/wonderbat-au-she-was-a-true-amazonian-woman-all

Jon grunted as he hit the ground and rolled a few feet, dodging the blast of fire that the large dragon in the sky had just rained down on him. He blinked up through his mask at the night sky, watching the great scaly beast let out a high-pitched roar. 

The ground shook next to him and Jon looked over. He felt a burst of relief at the sight of Wonder Woman – or Sansa, as she went by in her daily life. Her long red hair flowed out behind her, bit of charred debris floating through the air between them. She had her shield strapped to her arm, the bronze matching those of the bracelets she wore on her wrists. The bracelets that deflected bullets. Her lasso hung at her waist, bright and yellow, attached to the blue Roman-styled skirt. She turned to face him, the bronze Eagle on her red bodice winking at him as she held out her hand to him. “What – you taking a nap?” she asked with a smirk, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. 

Jon took her hand, his thick black gloves creating a barrier and preventing their skin from touching. She gripped his hand hard and hefted him to his feet. Wonder Woman was strong; she was a Goddess, an Amazon, a warrior trained by her people. She had been fighting a long time, helping humans such as himself dispel the evil in the world. 

And she was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever clapped eyes on. 

She didn’t look like much – her body sleek complete with sharp angles. At first glance, she was just another beautiful woman. 

She was so much more than that. 

So was he, he supposed. One look at him and people saw the rich recluse, sometimes playboy, who lived in the Winterfell mansion on the hill. By day, he was just that. By night, he was Batman. The Dark Knight. The one criminals feared. He protected his city. And when Sansa wasn’t off saving another part of the world, she was here, with him. 

Sansa looked up at the sky. “Dragon.”

“Oh, is that what that is?”

She shot him a look and he grinned. He knew she could see it too. It was the only part of his face clearly shown under his mask. 

She looked back up at the sky. The dragon was descending once again. Sansa looked over at him “I’m going up. I’m going to attempt to send it down. Do you have something to hit it with?”

Jon reached into one of the many compartments of his batsuit and pulled out a grenade. Of sorts. 

“Will you get hurt using that?” she asked. 

“Not if I run really fast,” he told her. 

She laughed and pulled the sword out that she kept tucked between her shoulder blades. She bent at the knees, getting into position. “Be careful.”

“You too,” he said, but he was pretty certain she didn’t hear him as she had already launched herself up into the air, leaving Jon in a gust of wind that threatened to toss him back down to the ground. 

He watched her with his heart in his throat as she and the dragon came in close contact. Its jaws were open and Jon braced himself for another onslaught of fire. “Sansa!” he bellowed in warning. But of course she couldn’t hear him. Not that high up in the air. 

He needn’t have worried though. Sansa drove her sword up the dragon’s mouth, piercing it. It screeched and snapped its jaws at her, but Sansa used her shield to smack it right on its snout. Its head bobbed down and Sansa landed on its neck and lassoed a wing and yanked hard, snapping the wing. She managed to do the same to the other one. It screeched again and began to plummet to the Earth. 

“Jon, get ready!” he heard her shout. 

Jon pulled the pin and hefted the grenade up in the air. 

Right into the dragon’s mouth and, he was willing to bet, its gullet. 

“Run!” Sansa shouted. 

Jon did, launching himself behind a dumpster. The grenade went off and he ducked while bits of dragon flesh flew this way and that in the air. He felt his cape get splattered with guts no doubt. He lifted his head just as a chunk of the dragon’s claw dropped in front of him. Looking past that, he found Sansa walking towards him. 

“Are you all right?” she asked him. 

He nodded and stood. “Are you?”

She nodded and frowned at the claw between them. “Majestic creature. Shame to have to kill it, but…it doesn’t belong here. Not something so deadly and unpredictable.”

“It belongs to someone.”

Sansa sighed and tucked her sword back where it belonged. “There’s always someone isn’t there? Who is it this time? Man or woman?”

“Woman. Her name is Daenerys Targaryen and she has a plan.”

“Let me guess. Conquer the world? Starting with Wintertown?”

Jon chuckled. “Of course.”

“What do you know about her?”

“I’ve got a file at home.”

Sansa smiled. “And here I thought this was going to be a slow night. Should we get started?”

He nodded to the claw in front of him that oozed green blood. “What did you think this was? This wasn’t getting started?”

She shrugged. “It was a warm up. Shall we?”

Jon held up a finger. “One thing first.” He moved around the claw while pulling his mask off. When he was planted in front of Sansa, he drew her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Missed you, Wonder Woman.”

She smiled. “Missed you too, Batman.”


	42. Waiting Room Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: I wish you would write a fic where Jon and Sansa notice each other in the waiting room of their couples therapist (while they are waiting with different partners) and then the partners stop coming with them and they get close over their talks in the waiting room

The first time Jon and Sansa noticed each other was when she and her husband were leaving from a session with their couples therapist. At least, that's what Jon thought they were doing. Why else would they be leaving together? Unless one of them was stark raving mad and their significant other needed to be kept abreast of their progress. But since couples therapy did take place in this particular office staffed by half a dozen, it stood to reason that that's what was going on. 

While her husband had gone to the window to speak with receptionist behind the desk, the red-headed woman ambled over to the fish tank in the corner and just stared at the fish for a second or two before turning around and sighing as she looked over at her husband. She looked forlorn. Lost. She looked so desperately unhappy. 

And she was beautiful. Even with all that sadness. That red hair, those big blue eyes, her pink lips and her tall, svelte body. She wasn't wearing anything particularly spectacular, jeans and a flowery top, but she still somehow managed to look elegant. 

She turned her head away from her husband and her gaze drifted to his. They locked eyes and held each other's gaze for just a few seconds before she skittered hers away. Then her husband was beckoning her to follow him, and they were gone. 

xxxxxxxx

Sansa, who once had high hopes that therapy would salvage her marriage to Joffrey, felt her hopes dying. How was it possible that couples therapy was helping _her_ , but not helping _them_? She found herself doing most of the talking while Joff just sat there, sullen. When he did contribute, it was to blame her for everything that was wrong between them. 

Now, here they were, waiting to go inside and she was having some anxiety about it. She put her magazine down and started to bounce her leg up and down, a nervous tick. She surveyed the room and nearly gasped when her eyes locked on that hot stranger from last week. He had black curly hair that fell down to his shoulders, gray eyes that pierced right through her, full, sensuous lips, and a beard that just made him look all sorts of roguish. His hair, currently pulled back into a manbun, also got her. She hadn't liked manbuns at all before now. It worked for him. 

She shifted her gaze to the woman sitting next to him. A redhead. Pretty. Was he still looking at her? She was afraid to glance back at him, so she looked over at the fishtank. 

Joff put his hand down on her leg. "Could you cut that out? It's distracting."

"Sorry," she said, and winced. She wasn't sorry. She wasn't sorry for bouncing her leg, and hadn't the therapist told her not to apologize for things that she wasn't actually sorry for? _"Bouncing your leg isn't hurting anyone, Sansa, why should you apologize for that?"_ she heard her therapist say in her head. 

Now she sat there, completely forgetting about hot guy across the room, and just ruminated on how she wanted to bounce her leg and should be able to goddammit. She was so completely done with Joffrey always finding fault with her.

xxxxxxxxx

At what point did you just give up? Jon wondered, not for the first time. Here they were, their tenth? Was it their tenth? visit to the couples therapist and still they were at a standstill? 

He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Something bothering you?" Ygritte asked, sounding annoyed with him. Big fucking surprise. She was always annoyed with him. 

He wanted to say - _Yeah, something is bothering me. You fucked someone else, that's what's bothering me. Also, this isn't working because I can't get past it. You don't actually take any responsibility for your actions, you just blame me for them, even the therapist has told you that you can't keep saying it's my fault you strayed but you keep doing it!_

Jon lifted his head from the wall and looked across the room at the redhead he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off every time they were here. He wondered if he was getting back at Ygritte in some way by not being able to get this mystery woman out of his head. He didn't just stare at her when they were here, he found himself thinking about her at random. A lot. 

He'd noticed that lately, she just looked downright angry and done. 

Just as he was. 

xxxxxxxxxx

When Jon walked into the therapists office, he stopped and looked across the room at the redhead. She was alone. He was too. And there was an empty seat next to her. Gathering his courage, he walked over and sat down next to her. 

She looked up from her magazine and looked at him, looking a bit surprised. "Hi," she said. 

He smiled. He was already half in love with her voice. "Hi." He held out his hand. "I'm Jon Snow and I'm getting divorced."

Her lips curled up into a smile. "I'm Sansa Stark, and I'm getting a divorce too."

And they lived Happily Ever After.


	43. Because You're Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: I wish you would write a fic where Sansa is constantly teasing Jon about his hair only for Jon to find it amusing that she's obsessed with touching it when they finally do hook up 

Sansa never paid much attention to Jon when he’d come over to hang out with Robb. He was always Robb’s younger sister that sometimes drifted in and out of the room and was just always around. Arya would sometimes hang out with them, as much as Robb would let her, but Sansa never would, and Bran and Rickon hung out with each other. 

 

It was when Jon turned seventeen and Sansa had just turned fifteen that things change. For one, seemingly overnight Sansa had turned into a Goddess. Her hair, long and red and shiny made him think of flames. Her big blue eyes that she sometimes made pop by the strategic use of makeup, her pink lips that always had gloss on them, and the clothes that clung to her curves, but were at the same time quite modest. Plus, she’d grown tall and svelte and Jon knew she worked out on a regular basis. 

 

Once he’d noticed her, he couldn’t stop noticing her. But she was also Robb’s little sister. So, he said nothing. He did nothing. If he was hyper-aware of when she was around then it was just because he was observant. 

 

And Sansa now talked to him. Or rather, talked about his hair. 

 

One afternoon when it was particularly unruly, his shoulder-length black curls falling in his face while he and Robb worked on his car, she giggled as she strolled by and said, “Rapunzel Rapunzel, let down your hair.”

 

He trimmed it the next day, which served to make his curls bouncier. During that time Sansa would come up to him and play with his curls and sing, “Bounce for me, bounce for me…”

 

When he grew it out again, she then started calling him “Ser Lotta Curls.”  
When he started pulling it back into a “manbun” and she called him “Mr. Manbun.”

 

For his birthday she presented him with a bottle of L'Oreal shampoo and simply said, “Because you’re worth it.”

 

It made him a little self-conscious, but mostly it made him laugh, wondering what new thing she would say every time he’d do something different to his hair. 

 

And then, when she was nineteen and he was twenty-one, Jon asked Robb if he could ask Sansa out. Robb had lectured him, threatened to kill him if he did anything to hurt Sansa, but then declared that Jon was better than that prick Joffrey Lannister she’d dated for too long in high school. 

 

She didn’t tease him about his hair any longer, but she touched it all the time. When they watched a movie together on his lumpy couch in his small apartment she would absently play with his curls, her arm resting behind him. She was always running her hands through it when they kissed, and when they made love, well…

 

When he went down on her, she gripped his hair tight, almost to the point of pain. And when he was inside her, she’d run her hands through it and hold it away from his face while he pounded inside her. 

 

One night, they lay in bed together, sated from a round of vigorous love making and Jon was using her breasts as pillows while he wound himself around her. Sansa was playing with his hair again, twirling the curls around her finger. 

 

He smiled against her skin. “Now you like my hair, I see.”

 

She stopped playing with it and said, “I’ve always liked your hair, Jon.”

 

He lifted his head and looked up at her. “You always made fun of it though.”

 

Her sensual lips curved into a smile. “Of course I did. It was the only way I knew how to get your attention.”

 

He laughed huskily. “So that was your way of flirting with me?”

 

She nodded, looking quite proud of herself. “Yup. And now here we are.”

 

Jon rose up and kissed her hungrily. “Just so you know, you’d already had my attention, but I like knowing I had yours too.”


End file.
